The Awakened Friend
by Madame Seshat
Summary: The seventh horcrux doesn't remain dormant in Harry's mind - instead it activates in the form of Tom, Harry's Imaginary Friend. Harry finally finds himself with someone on his side growing up, and who knew what a huge difference that would end up making?
1. The Boy Who Lived

**Hello - this is my new story, though it's been ages since I've published anything like this. I have outlines for both the first and second books, and have challenged myself to stay within the chapter titles JK Rowling has already given us. Not sure how long this will last though because the second book will diverge more than this one will. Still, hope you enjoy!**

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Harry never wanted to be Bad. He wanted to be Good, like Dudley was. Dudley was always Good, even though he never did the chores or got good grades. Even when he was mean to people at school and got detentions, he was still Good. Though the last detention didn't really count because the teachers hadn't realised that hitting Harry wasn't Bad, because they didn't know that Harry was a Freak, and freaks got what they deserved.

He curled up more in his cupboard, holding his legs to his chest as he felt the special warmth run through his body, healing his injuries in time for school tomorrow. He'd done something really, really bad today. He'd done his freaky thing to pour the bleach into the bucket, because the last time he did it with his hands he'd spilt it and it had hurt his skin. But Aunt Petunia has seen him, and she'd been really, really angry because he wasn't supposed to do that. And Uncle Vernon got told and he had been punished.

He needed to stop doing the freaky thing. He had to stop it and then he could be Good just like Dudley. Maybe then he could have friends, and bacon for breakfast and do well on his homework without being accused of cheating. He sniffed, tears escaping from his eyes and mixing with the blood on his cheeks – he had to make it stop. He wouldn't be a freak anymore! He wouldn't!

The warmth in his chest got hotter, and hotter until it seemed to explode in him and Harry suddenly felt tired, like he'd been running away from Dudley's friends again. He was panting like it as well.

"Hello Harry" said a voice, and Harry sat bolt upright, looking around his cupboard. He saw a blurry shape in front of him, and reached for the new glasses his teacher had made the Dursley's buy him. The figure sharpened into a boy – a big boy. Perhaps in Year 3, or maybe even in Middle School. The boy had pale skin, and dark hair, and looked almost... posh. Like he came from one of the rich families the Dursley's liked so much

"Who are you?" Harry asked, keeping his voice low in fear of waking the Dursleys "And why are you in my cupboard?"

The boy looked confused for a moment, looking around at the place as though unsure as to how he'd gotten there " _I'm not entirely certain_ " he said, each word clipped and precise. He sounded older than he looked " _I do believe I am here to be your friend_ "

Harry was silent for a moment, squinting his eyes suspiciously. He couldn't have friends because he was a Freak... but the boy was in /his/ cupboard, and Harry really, really wanted someone that he could play with "Ok" he said, smiling "My name is Harry Potter and I'm 4 years old. What's your name?" He yawned at the end of that sentence, and he hunched down a little embarrassed. He didn't want to seem like a baby in front of this big boy. What if he decided he didn't want to be friends anymore?

The big boy chuckled softly, and Harry cringed away further " _It is good to meet you Harry Potter. Now I do believe it is time for you to go to sleep. It's ok – I'll be here in the morning_ "

Harry wanted to protest that – he'd dreamt himself up many friends before and none of them lasted into the morning. But he was very, very tired and he knew he had to be up early to cook Dudley's birthday breakfast, so he slowly lay back down, yawning again.

He'd curled up onto his side, and felt hot fingers removing his glasses. He was just on the edge of sleep when he realised his question hadn't been answered.

"Wait... what's your name?"

The reply came after a long moment of silence " _Tom. I think my name is Tom_ "

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	2. The Vanishing Glass

**Now Tom's been introduced, now to see what an effect he's had on young Harry's life!**

 **Don't own the HP Universe. For this chapter or the last.**

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"Up! Get up! Now!"

The shrill voice of Aunt Petunia pierced through the fog of sleep as Harry Potter slowly opened his eyes to take in the blurry view of his ceiling. He turned his head, reaching blindly for his glasses and putting them on, dry tongue seeming to stick to the roof of his mouth as he tried to remember precisely why he was being given such a rude wake up call.

7:08am

The words mocked him in the red light of his clock, 8 minutes past the time he had set his alarm, and at least an hour before he normally got up on a Saturday. God – it was _that_ day again. His Aunt rapped on the door once more "Up!"

"Yes Aunt Petunia" he called to her, hearing a soft chuckle from the end of the bed "I must have _forgotten_ to set the alarm. I'm sorry"

He sat up, and saw Tom sitting at the end of the bed, arms folded over the black cloak he always insisted on wearing and looking rather amused. Harry glared at him.

"Harry – please don't make this day any harder than it already is" Aunt Petunia said, and Harry felt instantly guilty, as though it were _his_ fault his friend was evil and liked turning his clock off.

"I'm sorry" he said, watching form the corner of his eyes as Tom mocked the words "I'll come down and help you with breakfast in a moment if you want"

He didn't even hear her reply as he looked at Tom who had raised an eyebrow " _I'm sorry? Really Harry? After all they put you through, you say sorry?"_

Harry shrugged, walking to the dresser and hunting for some clean underwear "What? I felt guilty – you know how hard today is for them. And it is our..."

 _"Ah ah"_ Tom replied, walking over to stand next to him _"You know we don't speak of that out loud. And you know that it was necessary. Do you think you'd have ever gotten out of that cupboard if it wasn't for that? No? Right then. I'd go for the black trousers and shirt. They'll be pleased to see you making an effort"_

Harry knew from years of experience that there was no point arguing with his best friend, so he pulled on his clothes as instructed, and quickly tried to flatten his hair (a futile task on the best of days) before heading down the stairs. In fact, it had been 7 years precisely since Tom had first appeared to him and yet to look at the house, it would seem nary a day. The front garden was still all perfectly clipped grass and neat rows of tulips, Dudley's room still filled with too many toys and dusty electronics, the living room as immaculate as the day Harry had been left on the doorstep in the first place. The only thing that suggested the passage of time, were the photos on the mantelpiece – once they were of what looked like a pink beach ball wearing different-coloured bobble hats, but now they were of a blond boy riding his first bicycle, on a roundabout at the fair, playing at the park. The centrepiece of the display was in a silver frame, with the words 'Forever in our hearts', and had a picture of Dudley Dursley smiling sweetly in front of a birthday cake with 7 lit candles. Aunt Petunia was holding that photo in her hands as Harry crept down the stairs and into the kitchen, where he could smell the bacon burning. He quickly rescued it, and started making up some bacon sandwiches that he knew wouldn't be eaten by anyone but him.

Uncle Vernon was sat in the corner of the room, reading the paper "Comb your hair" he muttered, but it was half-hearted compared to his normal efforts. Tom kicked Harry in the shin to get him to respond

"I'm sorry Uncle Vernon" he said quickly, plating up the sandwiches and sliding them onto the table, which was difficult, as there wasn't much room around the presents in the middle. It always astounded Harry and Tom, the number of presents that Dudley could still receive, but it didn't really concern them as much as it used to, because they knew who they would be passed onto on July 31st.

Uncle Vernon glanced at the sandwich, looked faintly ill then turned back to his paper. Never mind, Harry thought, as he chewed on a piece of bacon. All the more for him.

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 _Dudley Dursley_

 _23/07/80-23/07/87_

 _Beloved Son_

 _Taken from us too soon_

The simple granite gravestone had a fresh bunch of brightly coloured flowers every week, courtesy of the deceased's mother, but today the bunch seemed more garish than ever, with streamers and a large birthday badge incorporated into the design. To brighten up the place, Aunt Petunia had explained in the car whilst Tom had laughed in the backseat so hard he had doubled over. Harry had hit him to make him shut up.

It was boring, hanging around a cemetery to listen to his Aunt and Uncle talk to a dead boy. They barely even noticed him after Harry had made his customary speech about them being 'brothers' and 'missing him' and how he 'knew you'd be a hit in our new school'. Aunt Petunia had started crying, and even Uncle Vernon had been misty eyed as Harry slipped away with Tom to explore.

"Hey – look at this one. Miss Henrietta Potter – she has my name" Harry said, pointing at a large statue of an angel, standing on a plinth with its weather-worn face looking eerily down at them. Tom looked uneasy – he never did like the graveyard much

 _"Hardly important Harry – now come look at this"_ he said, his burning hot hand reaching for Harry's wrist and dragging him over towards the bushes

"If this is another snake Tom" Harry complained though he followed obediently. That was of course, before he tripped over a tree branch "Damn" he said, looking at the mud on his trousers. Tom, of course, looked as perfectly groomed as ever as he gazed down at him

 _"Nice trip? Honestly Harry, how is it possible for you to be so clumsy?"_ he asked smugly, and Harry laughed as he took stock of his injuries _"You have glass in your hand and a grazed knee. You'll have to be taken to A &E for the hand, which we don't really want. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon won't be pleased if they have to take time out of their yearly ritual for you, and you'll miss out on going to McDonalds"_ Tom sneered at the name, whilst Harry's stomach grumbled. It had been Dudley's favourite fast food place, and every year they took Harry in memory of him

"Ok – you'll have to help though" Harry said reluctantly, as he found a comfier part of the ground to sit on. He knew what Tom wanted him to do, and even now it made him uncomfortable

 _"Of course. Now think hard about the glass. Visualise it... you know where the power lives in you. Just trickle it out through your hand"_

Harry did what he was told, dragging the magic reluctantly from his centre and towards the injury. He felt the moment the glass dissolved, not through the physical sensation but from how it drained him. He leant back against the tree which had caused the damage in the first place, panting softly.

"Hate you" he murmured, looking at his hand. It was bleeding more steadily now, but it didn't seem that bad a cut. Nothing a bandage and time wouldn't fix

 _"No you don't"_ Tom said, tucking an unruly piece of black hair behind Harry's ear. The heat of his hand caused the perspiration on his brow to evaporate.

"Harry – it's time to go. Your therapy session starts in an hour" He groaned as he heard Aunt Petunia's voice

 _"Yes Harry – let's go talk to a man about the voices in your head"_ Tom said, still insufferably superior about his mandatory sessions

"Maybe I should just take the pills they gave me – I could do without one particular voice" Harry replied lightly as he pushed himself up to his feet

 _"That hurt Harry, that really hurt"_ Tom said, a hand clutching his chest like he'd just been delivered a fatal blow

"Shut up – or I'll got back to the Imaginary Friend shop, and replace you with a better model!"

"Harry James Potter – come on, or we won't go to McDonalds"

"Coming Aunt Petunia!"

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	3. The Letters From No One

**I'm on a roll today - a third chapter written and posted! I've decided that I'm going to stick with the chapter titles, but I might have to move them around a bit, because Harry really does have to visit Diagon Alley next chapter. And I have an idea as to the Keeper of the Keys. But that's for the next chapter or so!**

 **Hope you're all enjoying. I don't actually own it**

 **Please review!**

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Harry saw hide nor hair of anything magical until school was over and summer had started. During that time, he had reached top of his class in all his subjects (which was rather easy if you shared a brain with someone with an eidetic memory), managed to persuade his therapist that he was healthy enough to stop the last of his medication, and had achieved his Green belt in Jui Jitsu. The summer was a rare one, with the sun shining through his window and a warm breeze blowing at his hair as he lay on his bed, enjoying a lie in. Life really couldn't get much better than this.

"Harry – get the mail on the way down" he heard his Aunt shout up to him, and he sighed. Pulling the covers over his head, he rolled over into the foetal position, only to come face to face with Tom. He jumped at the unexpected proximity

" _Are you going to spend all day in bed? Because it is rather boring_ "

"Go find someone else's head to invade then" Harry said, rolling onto his other side just to find the boy over there as well. He closed his eyes in protest.

" _Honestly Harry – the sun is shining, the birds are singing and you want to spend all day in bed?_ "

"Not _all_ day – I have my martial arts class tonight after all. But apart from that, yes"

" _Up. Now_ " Tom put a hand on Harry's arm until the heat became uncomfortable and he had to pull away.

"Yes, yes – fine" Harry finally relented "You're a git – you know that?"

" _It's all part of my charm_ "

He slowly pulled himself out of bed and headed down the stairs, wrapping a dressing gown around himself. The Dursley's didn't like seeing his bare skin because of the thin lines of scar tissue that still marred his shoulders. They had fooled themselves into thinking that nothing bad had happened between them and their nephew, but unfortunately that wasn't the case. Harry hadn't forgotten and Tom definitely hadn't forgiven.

He grabbed the small pile of letters from the doormat and flicked through them. Bills, Postcard from Marge, Bills, Letter for Harry, Junk mail... wait. A letter for Harry? He paused, pulling it out and looking at it. It didn't look like a normal letter, with a thick and heavy envelope made of parchment with the address written in emerald green ink

 _Mr H Potter_

 _The Smallest Bedroom_

 _4 Privet Drive_

 _Little Whinging_

 _Surrey_

When he turned the envelope around he found a purple wax seal bearing a coat of arms; a lion, a badger, an eagle and a snake surrounding the letter H.

"Do they even use seals anymore?" Harry asked, checking to make sure his family weren't going to look down the corridor before passing it to Tom

"Must do" the boy responded, a crease appearing between his brows as he studied it " _I don't recognise it though, even from that book of Britain's Noble Families I read 2 years ago_"

"A joke then? Or perhaps an early birthday present?" Harry asked, continuing towards the kitchen. Tom raised an eyebrow, and Harry shrugged. Just because the Dursley's hadn't bought him anything before didn't mean it couldn't happen.

He passed Uncle Vernon the rest of the post and took a seat opposite the man to open his letter. He would have succeeded if not for the fact Aunt Petunia had come over to give her husband his breakfast of bacon and eggs

"You came down too late for yours" she told Harry, without really looking at him "There's cereal in the cupboard which you can have if you make it in the next 10 minutes. What's that?" Her voice went unbelievably shrill with the last two words

"A letter – for me" Harry said. The parchment was pulled from his hands just as he was on the verge of unfolding it

"Who'd be writing to you?" his Uncle asked, before reading the first line of the stolen mail. His face went from red, to green, then to a grey-white in a record amount of time whilst Aunt Petunia, who seemed to have taken the rainbow display as confirmation of something, looked quite faint

"Vernon... oh God Vernon... but there's been nothing. None of that... nonsense. Not since he was a baby" she babbled, and the two of them looked at each other as though having entirely forgotten Harry was in the room.

"I want to read it – it's mine!" Harry said sharply and Tom glared at him from where he was edging around the table get a peek before the paper was put away.

"Get out" Uncle Vernon croaked, folding the letter back in half and putting it in the envelope with slow, shaky fingers. He looked like he'd aged a decade in a day.

"I want my letter" he said stubbornly, face set into a frown.

"OUT!" Uncle Vernon roared, with an anger Harry hadn't seen for a long time. It reminded him a bit too much of his past and he paled, stepping back from the table and fleeing to his room.

He was quiet as he sat on the bed, shivering, white-faced and feeling utterly disgusted at his own cowardice. Tom sat close beside him, the heat from his body warming Harry up slightly " _Are you alright? You know I promised he would never hurt you again_ "

"I'm fine" Harry replied stiffly "We have to get that letter – do you think you could take it?"

" _Why else would you have me?_ " Tom asked, sitting by Harry for another moment until the boy's breathing had gone back to normal, before creeping down the stairs to retrieve his property. It took 10 long minutes for him to come back, and whilst by that point Harry's colour had returned, he boy still hadn't liked the separation. He and Tom had rarely been apart in the 7 years they'd known each other. However, if Tom noticed his discomfort, he didn't say anything about it. Instead he stood in front of Harry radiating icy anger

" _They knew. They knew about magic, I'm sure of it_ " Tom said after a long period of silence. Harry absorbed this for a moment

"Sorry? What does that have to do about my letter?" He asked

" _Oh screw the letter Harry – it's been burned anyway. The more important thing was that they knew. Every time those bastards beat you or hurt you because something strange happened, they knew what had caused it. They wanted to 'stamp out that nonsense'_ "

Another silence

"They knew. They knew all along and they never told me. They let me thin I was a freak?" Tom nodded, but remained quiet, waiting for Harry to come to the next logical conclusion "But for them to know must mean a relative or something... Mum and Dad? Maybe they were magic too. Perhaps they didn't die in a drunken car crash?"

" _We'll find out_ " Tom said confidently " _The letter is something to do with that world, and I'm sure they will go to some effort to contact you if their first missive doesn't get a response_ "

Harry's anger had become very similar to Tom's over the course of their friendship, burning low and cold and patient. He'd stopped Tom from hurting his Aunt and Uncle before, just after taking their son from them, but he wondered whether he wanted to protect them anymore. Perhaps that was something to consider later, but first, the letter "So what are we going to do?"

Tom's plan was quite simple. He would head downstairs every morning and take the envelope from the pile of post before anyone else had time to get it. Being invisible to anyone but Harry, it would be easy to get the letter and deposit it into a safe place before anyone else in the family saw it. It worked like a charm, and the very next evening in fact, Harry found himself sat on his bed, slowly unfolding the parchment to read his acceptance to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

"Do you think it's some sort of trick?" was the first thing he asked, after letting Tom read it

" _A rather elaborate one if so_ " Tom said slowly " _And considering your Aunt and Uncle's response, I would assume not_ "

Harry nodded, trying not to pay too much attention to that niggling bit of hope inside him that was saying 'you _are_ special'. He read the letter again

"Ok – it said please send your owl. What do you think that means?"

" _I think it means that the wizarding world is rather archaic and still uses birds as a means of communication. As there isn't a return address, I would assume there would be an owl somewhere around here to take the letters. Go and see_ "

Harry went to the window and looked outside. He couldn't see anything "Owl for Hogwarts?" he called, feeling rather silly. He felt even sillier when nothing arrived. Tom shrugged

"Maybe they think we've got an owl" Harry suggested

 _"Or maybe they just haven't thought things through. There isn't anything we can do about it. I suppose we'll have to wait and see what happens when they realise you aren't replying_ "

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The week that followed was one of the strangest of Harry's life. 3 letters had dropped onto the mat of 4 Privet Drive the very next day, which lead to Uncle Vernon nailing the letter box shut. By Friday, no less than 12 letters had slipped into Privet Drive anyway, through the cracks under the door and slotted through the sides. Harry had found himself cowering in his room as Uncle Vernon started sealing the cracks around the doors with wood, humming 'tiptoe through the tulips' as he sealed them all inside. It hadn't stopped the letters. Harry almost had to admire the tenacity of Hogwarts as they managed to slip 24 into the two-dozen eggs that had been passed to Aunt Petunia by the very confused millkman through the living room window on Saturday. Uncle Vernon had been fuming, and for the first time since he was 7, he and Tom had found themselves back in the cupboard again, deeming it the lesser of two evils (the other evil being Uncle Vernon's fists).

He was let out the next day by the portly man, who looked tired and rather ill looking, but overall smug, "Great day is Sunday, m'boy" he said, clapping Harry on the shoulder. In his delirious state, he'd obviously forgotten how much he disliked his nephew, and didn't even notice the boy flinch from his touch. He sat down at the breakfast table

"No post on Sunday" he reminded them as he spread marmalade on his newspaper "No damn letters today –"

He was cut off by about 30 of said letters whizzing through the air from the kitchen chimney. More spilled from the letter box and came through the sides of the door with such force that they didn't just send the wooden slats flying, but also projected them several feet into the hallway. Harry grinned, and nodding at Tom, he ran towards the suddenly free front door

Uncle Vernon flew at him but Tom stepped in the way. Though he couldn't see the boy, Tom had some sort of aura that made people want to avoid stepping through him, meaning the man spent several minutes standing in the doorway of the kitchen, wondering why he couldn't just follow Harry into the front Garden

"An owl to Hogwarts" Harry shouted, waving a letter he'd written a few days previously with Tom's assistance. It was drawn on special paper from a writing set Dudley had been given for his 9th Birthday, penned with a calligraphy set that Harry had mastered years ago to impress the teacher he was trying to persuade to teach him Latin (Tom's request). It read as followed;

 _Dear Deputy Headmistress McGonagall_

 _Thank you for your letter. I would be delighted to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Unfortunately, I am unsure where to purchase the items found on the list. Would it be possible to send instructions, or an order form so I can attend school on the 1_ _st_ _with everything in order?_

 _Thank you_

 _Harry Potter_

He was quite pleased the results. It looked smart, with the words 'Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry' on the back of the envelope and a makeshift blue wax seal keeping it closed. Tom had urged him against the last bit, but Harry rather liked it. Unfortunately he'd been unable to send it due to lack of an avian companion. That wasn't going to be a problem today, he thought as he saw the large number of owls that were sitting on every off-ground horizontal surface on the property.

A large brown owl flew down from its perch on the guttering and landed in front of him on the Privet Drive sign, dislodging a snowy owl in the process.

"Um..." he said. Was he just supposed to tell the bird what he wanted? "Could you take this to Hogwarts for me?" he asked, and the bird gave him the same pointed look Tom gave him, whenever he was being an idiot. He didn't even know that owls could be that expressive. A leg was held out for him, and he noticed some string attached to it. He barely had time to attach the letter before Uncle Vernon came flying out of the door, sweat running down his brow and Aunt Petunia on his tail

"You're too late" Harry said triumphantly, meeting Tom's eyes with a grin "I've just accepted my place"

He couldn't really remember much further than that as he was grabbed by the scruff of his neck and dragged back into the house.

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	4. Diagon Alley (Part 1)

**And onto chapter 4. Thank you for everyone who reviewed! I realised as I was writing this that it was getting rather long, so instead of continuing I split it into two. After all, you cannot rush a visit to Diagon Alley! And I know that technically Keeper of the Keys is chapter 4, but it just didn't fit. It is coming though, just a bit later in the story!**

 **Please review!**

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"Thank you Sensei" The class utter in synchrony, and Harry stood up from his kneeling position on the mat to run to Tom.

" _You're out of practise_ " the boy commented as they walked to the changing rooms " _That kid slammed you. Must have hurt_ " The remark was casual, but Harry could see the tense undertones

"It's fine – hardly hurts anymore" Harry said, which was a lie. His entire torso ached, but it wasn't really from Michael Porter throwing him in their impromptu sparring session.

" _I promised you I wouldn't let him hurt you again_"

"What could you do? You're a figment of my imagination. What are you looking at?" The last comment was aimed at a little white belt, who'd obviously not heard about the mad Harry Potter who talked to himself on a regular basis. The kid spluttered an apology, which made Tom smirk even as Harry turned his attention to changing

"Still, he won't be able to hurt us soon. When we get to Hogwarts, we'll learn all the defensive and offensive magic we can to protect ourselves"

" _If we get to Hogwarts– it's been 5 days already. It's the only reason Vernon let us out the house_ "

"The letter went by owl – who knows how long it will take?" Harry continued, voice muffled as he pulled a red jumper over his head, Tom kicking his things surreptitiously into a single pile.

" _It's magic_ " Tom countered as they collected their stuff and headed outside " _It might take..._ "

He trailed off as they saw a woman in front of them, leaning against the wall in front of the dojo and looking as out of place as it was possible for a person to look. She was tall, with black hair pulled tightly into a bun and a stern expression on her face. That wasn't what made her stand out. What made her stand out were the emerald green robes she was sporting

"Well, at least we know where you got your fashion sense from" Harry muttered to Tom, who elbowed him. The woman looked up

"Ah – Mr Potter I presume? Your guardians told me I could find you here" She sounded as severe as she looked, though that could have been because of the Dursley's – they tended to have that effect on people "My name is Professor McGonagall"

" _The Deputy Headmistress_ " Tom said, as though Harry had forgotten " _Wonder why she's here for you – surely she has better things to do with her time than to meet with first year students_ "

"Oh yes – Professor" Harry said brightly, "You got my letter"

"Yes – I apologise for the oversight. The Headmaster and I were under the impression that you had been raised in the knowledge of your heritage" A flash of anger crossed her face, before it was instantly replaced by a surprisingly kind smile "Unfortunately that means you've missed the opportunity to take the muggleborn orientation session with your peers. I'll instead take you to get your school things personally, Mr Potter"

"Oh – thank you Professor" Harry said "I hope I haven't caused you any trouble"

The smile softened a little, and he felt a little uncomfortable by the way her eyes lingered on his face. He looked away, the heat of Tom's body behind him comforting

"No trouble at all Mr Potter" Professor McGonagall said "Now, I'm just going to perform a little magic on you to change your appearance. We don't want to draw any unwanted attention to ourselves when we go to Diagon Alley"

There were so many questions that Harry wanted to ask from that sentence, that they crowded his tongue and kept him annoyingly silent as the woman put a hand on his back (which he stepped swiftly away from) and guided him to a nearby backstreet

"What sort of magic?" he finally asked, when they were safely ensconced in the alley. If the Professor looked out of place before, she looked even more so now amongst discarded fast food wrappers, broken glass and out of control weeds

"Just a simple glamour" she replied, pulling out a long stick from her sleeve "You look so much like James, except your eyes. You have Lily's eyes"

Harry stared at the Professor – he'd never heard a thing about his parents before. He'd never seen a photo, not even known their names. She waved her wand at him, muttering a couple of words before tapping him on the forehead. A rush of warmth suffused him "There – perfect. Now if you take my arm, Mr Potter. I will apparate us to Diagon Alley"

Harry did as he was told in a daze. And then it was black, gravity pressing in on him and his eardrums being pushed deep into his skull like he'd swam to the bottom of a swimming pool. He couldn't feel Tom anywhere, couldn't feel where he was holding the Professor's arm then... it stopped, and he could feel the floor again and his stomach was churning wildly. And he still didn't know where Tom was. A cool hand was pressing him towards what looked like a toilet bowl

"There you go Mr Potter – apparating isn't a pleasant experience for anyone. If you need to throw up..."

"Where's Tom?" Harry asked frantically, shrugging away from the intruding presence to flit his eyes anxiously around him

"Who's Tom" Professor McGonagall asked, brow furrowing and Harry nearly jumped as a cool voice behind him drawled

" _Yes Harry – who's Tom? How are we going to explain this away?_ "

Harry breathed a sigh of relief "Sorry Professor – I think I got a bit disorientated. Tom's a boy in my martial arts class"

" _A little farfetched but not bad_ " His friend conceded, as the Professor nodded in acceptance of that response. There was a moment of disappointment as Harry realised that the wizarding world couldn't see Tom either – he had hoped for a moment... Tom put a hand on his shoulder " _Go on – she's leaving without you_ "

Harry followed Professor McGonagall through the doorway into a dark and shabby pub. It was almost empty, the only people Harry could see being three women in the corner, drinking sherry and passing around an impressively long pipe, a little man in a top hat and the bartender, who was bald and looked a bit like a gummy walnut. He seemed to recognise her

"Professor McGonagall – one Gillywater?" he asked, "Or perhaps something a little stronger?" He'd put down the glass he was cleaning, only for the rag to continue the job on its own. Harry stared at it for a moment, then at the picture on the wall (donated by J Ratfield) that had sheep literally walking around a field, before turning to the little man who was complaining to anyone who would listen about the unfairness of the latest laws on broomstick imports. He blinked once, and Tom tapped him on the shoulder to point to a sign that Harry jumped upon with relief

A moment later, he found himself locked in the bathroom, taking deep breaths. "Ok – there's magic" he said, which was stupid because he'd known that. He spotted himself in a water stained mirror "And I'm blond. She made me blond. With blue eyes. I look like a skinny Dudley!"

It was just so very... magic out there. The complete opposite from his Aunt and Uncles perfectly normal house, on their perfectly normal street with their perfectly normal neighbours. Tom didn't judge him for his minor panic attack and instead just watched him from where he was leaning against the stall door.

" _It's ok- we know what it's like out there now_ " Tom said before relating everything they'd found out so far, including some useful inferences about 'Muggle' being the term for 'non-magic' and the fact that they, or at least their parents were well known in this world. He finished with " _Presumably there is a fund for students, or the Professor managed to get a stipend from your Aunt and Uncle to pay for your equipment because we didn't go back to get any money. I can't imagine any of this stuff is cheap_ "

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it" Harry said, having calmed down in the time it had taken Tom to give his speech. He stood up from the very grimy toilet seat

" _I suppose we shall. Are you ready to go back_ " Harry scowled at the patronising tone, but it did its job at getting him to move. In fact, he felt much better as he headed back to the pub where Professor McGonagall was going frantic

"Where have you been Mr Potter?" she said loudly, and he swore he could hear the entire pub (which was busier now) go silent "How dare you sneak off like that – if you were in Hogwarts I'd take so many points from your house"

"Mr Potter?" The barman said, looking closely at Harry, and blinking at him "Could this... could this be?"

"Of course not Tom – this is a muggleborn who missed the orientation" McGonagall said quickly, cheeks going pink as she put a hand on Harry's shoulder too tightly for him to slip away "Now, I'm afraid we must be going" She directed him to another side room before anyone else could question them. There was a single red bricked wall on the far side "Now – it's three bricks up, two across. Tap three times" She had her wand out again and tapped the brick.

It quivered, wriggled in fact and in its centre a small hole appeared that got bigger and bigger, until not even a second later they were standing in front of a large archway. Through it, he could see a cobbled street, sided by buildings that looked like they had been designed by a drunk architect and held up by sheer force of will.

McGonagall looked fond at the amazement on his face "This, Mr Potter, is Diagon Alley" she said and they stepped through. Harry looked behind him to see the archway shrink back into a solid wall as quickly as it had come.

As they walked along, Harry wished he had 8 more sets of eyes. There was so much to see. Stacks of cauldrons stood outside one shop with the sign _'Cauldrons – All Sizes – Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver – Self-Stirring – Collapsible'_

" _You'll need one of those_ " Tom said in his ear as they walked passed

Another shop had what looked like a large tree growing up the side, with purple flowers and lianas that swooped down to steal hats off of passers-by, hoarding them on the balcony at the top of the building. There was a shop called _Scrivenshafts_ that had a large, black quill continuously writing out its name on the large sign above the door, the words disappearing seconds after finishing before the sequence started again. A soft hooting sound came from a place reading _Eeylops Owl Emporium – Tawny, Screech, Barn, Brown and Snowy_ , whilst a cacophony of noises came from _Scamander's Magical Menagerie_ (though that might have had something to do with the man who had run out of the doors with what looked like the cross between a chicken and a snake flapping after him) _._ Tom was absolutely captivated by a particularly large building named _Flourish and Blotts_ , that had windows filled with books stacked from ceiling to floor and with a large animated dragon above the door reading a tomb with magically turning pages.

And it wasn't just the shops, but the people were just as fascinating. There was a plump woman in deep purple robes outside the apothecary who was shaking her head as they passed, muttering to herself "Dragon liver, sixteen Sickles an ounce, they're mad". And a young couple looking over a shopping list, whilst they had a conversation about the efficacy of household cleaning charms and if they really need to get an exterminator to remove a flock of doxies from the curtains, or could they get an old friend of theirs to do it. A group of boys Harry's age with their noses pressed against a window with actual broomsticks in it at one point, he could have sworn he saw a woman who's hair changed from brown to bubblegum pink right in front of him.

"Here we are Mr Potter – Gringotts" Professor McGonagall said, and Harry turned from where he had been staring at a shop called Gallioglass, whose whole outside wall was covered in mirrors that yelled a mixture of compliments and insults at people as they walked past.

They were in front of a snowy white building that towered over all the little shops, with large impressive looking pillars and a crooked appearance that suggested once again that wizarding builders did not know what a protractor was. Standing beside burnished bronze doors, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold was... something. About a head shorter than Harry, with very long fingers and feet with a crooked nose and pointed beard. His eyes were small, black and beady with an intelligence in them that neither Harry nor Tom could miss. It bowed as they walked passed, a mocking one and Harry got the impression that it didn't like wizards very much. However, being polite, he bowed back. The creature seemed surprised.

After entering through the first doors, they came to a second pair, made of silver this time with words engraved in the centre. Harry paused, eyes flicking over them, though the Professor seemed anxious to move on.

 _Enter, stranger, but take heed_

 _Of what awaits the sin of greed_

 _For those who take, but do not earn_

 _Must pay most dearly in their turn_

 _So if you seek beneath out floors_

 _A treasure that was never yours_

 _Thief, you have been warned, beware_

 _Of finding more than treasure there_

He turned to Tom and smirked, both of them obviously having the same thought. He grinned at one of the creatures, who was watching him intently as he read "Is that a challenge?" he asked, cocking his head

"Mr Potter!" Professor McGonagall said, sounding outraged "How dare you threaten the goblins – do you want to be banned from here?"

"I won't be... at least I don't think I will. It's a challenge - thieves may enter but they have been warned it won't be an easy task. But if they do make it out... well. Then they've taken and earned haven't they?" He paused "This is a bank isn't it? Or like a safety deposit box place?"

Professor McGonagall had that stern expression on her face again, and she opened her mouth to respond, but was beaten by another voice "We are both Mr Potter" The Goblin guarding the right door stepped forward, and he grinned to reveal pointed teeth. Now he was closer, Harry noticed that he was carrying a sword sheathed in a leather scabbard on his hip. There was also what looked like a dagger on his leg. "And you are correct. However our walls have not been breached successfully for over 5 centuries. Will you and your companion accept our challenge?" He wasn't looking at McGonagall.

" _Perhaps another time_ " Tom said, looking intrigued and Harry repeated the sentiment "After all, I'd hate to be killed before I became a true contender" The Goblin smirked and looked almost pleased at the answer.

"Mr Potter – you will not rob Gringotts unless you want to lose at least 50 points from whatever house you are sorted into. Now let us move on. We have lots to do today and not a lot of time to do it in"

"Of course not Professor – it would be suicide to try and rob it now" he replied, before bowing to the goblin who instead of bowing back, held a fist to his chest. Harry wondered if that was significant but didn't have time to ponder as he followed the teacher into a vast marble hall. At the far end there were about a hundred goblins sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins on brass scales and examining precious stones through eyeglasses. Everywhere else, there were doors of various materials and sizes coming off all available wall space (too many to really be feasible), and even more goblins were leading people in and out of these. Harry and Professor McGonagall walked along the red carpeted walkway towards the counter, heading towards the nearest free goblin.

"Good morning – we've come to take money out of Mr Harry Potter's safe" Professor McGonagall said in a prim voice. The goblin sneered, narrowing his eyes at Harry and baring his teeth.

" _They really don't like wizards_ " Tom noted, seeing that everyone else in the establishment seemed to be getting the same treatment. The goblin turned his head sharply towards the boy, and it looked to Harry like he was frowning, squinting his eyes over the top of the small glasses perched in his crooked nose

"And does Mr Harry Potter have his key?" the goblin asked, and Harry looked at McGonagall in askance. He had a safe? In a wizarding bank?

"Mr Harry Potter does" McGonagall snapped, passing the goblin a tiny golden key. The goblin looked at it closely.

"All appears to be in order" the goblin said, and Tom frowned

" _That's it? It doesn't appear to be very safe_ " Tom said, and Harry related the sentiment to the goblin. The creature raised an eyebrow

"Well sir – what if someone else found my key, or it was stolen? What would stop people from entering my safe then?"

"I would suggest, Mr Potter" the Goblin said, sounding amused "That you do not lose your key. Or take a leaflet on additional protections that can be applied to vaults with things worth protecting in them" It didn't sound like he believed Harry's vault had anything of value in it.

"We'll pick it up on the way out Mr Potter" Professor McGonagall said, sounding weary yet resigned, as though she suddenly realised this wasn't going to be an easy day out. Harry wondered who normally did the muggle orientation because it certainly wasn't this stern woman, who hadn't really explained anything to him over the course of the morning "Also, I have a letter from Professor Dumbledore regarding the contents of vault seven hundred and thirteen. I am under the impression it will take you around an hour to make it safe for visiting?"

The goblin didn't respond, instead reading the letter very carefully. He peered over his glasses at the three of them again "Very well" he said, handing the letter back to Professor McGonagall, who pocketed it into her robes "I will have someone take you down to Mr Potter's vault, and the... other will be ready for your perusal on the hour. Be prepared to prove your identity. Griphook!"

Another goblin came over to them, and lead them to one of the doors leading off the hall, holding it open. Through it was a narrow, stone passageway lit with flaming torches. It sloped steeply downwards and there were little rail tracks on the floor, and when the goblin (supposedly Griphook) whistled, a small cart came hurtling up the tracks towards them. They climbed in (with a little difficulty thanks to Tom's presence in the cart), and they were off.

Harry had always wanted to go on a Rollercoaster and this was just what he imagined it to be like. They hurtled through a maze of twisting passages – left, right, right, left, middle, fork, right, left – until Harry gave up on trying to remember. The cart seemed to know where it was going though because Griphook didn't seem to be steering. He was sure he saw fire at one point, and they had passed an underground lake with stalagmites and stalactites growing from the ceiling and floor before they finally slowed by a small door in the passage wall.

"That was brilliant" Harry said, and Tom smiled fondly whilst Professor McGonagall looked like she wanted to throw up. Griphook got out of the cart and unlocked the door. A lot of green smoke came billowing out and as it cleared, Harry gasped. Inside were mounds of gold. Columns of silver. Heaps of little bronze coins.

"You didn't think your parents wouldn't leave you anything?" Professor McGonagall said when she took in Harry's amazement

"How much is it worth?" he asked, looking at the goblin. The creature smiled

"Total trust fund amount equals 10'000 galleons to be reimbursed at the end of each tax year" Harry nodded as though that cleared everything up. Tom stood beside him

"Is it real gold?" he asked at Tom's questioning

"Of course" the goblin replied, looking insulted "Though woe betide the wizard who tries to melt it down to sell it to the muggle world" Harry tried to look innocent – and he was technically. That had been Tom's idea after all.

"That will be all Mr Potter" Professor McGonagall says "The gold ones are called Galleons. There are 17 silver Sickles to a Galleon and 29 bronze knuts to a sickle. The current exchange rate for muggleborns is one Galleon to about 25 of your muggle pounds. You'll need no more than 50 Galleons for your school supplies"

Harry wanted to object to that, but Tom elbowed him, so instead he asked "Isn't that going to be heavy to carry? Isn't there a way to pay without carrying coins around – like a muggle credit card?"

"We can buy you a moleskin bag once you leave here Mr Potter" The Professor said "With a featherlight charm for making it weight nothing. But for now you can put it in this bag and I'll keep hold of it for you"

Harry nodded, taking the brown moneybag from the Professor and filling it with gold coins (more than 50 because knowing Tom he would end up buying the whole bookshop) "10000 galleons – that's equivalent to quarter of a million. We're rich – the Dursleys would have a fit!" Harry enthused quietly to Tom as he bent over the coins to fill up the bag with bronze, silver and gold.

" _I'm more interested in how the Goblin said 'Trust Vault'. I do believe we should come back here Harry, without our new friend_ "

Harry nodded, standing up and tying up the bag. If the Professor noticed the extra weight in the purse, she didn't mention it "Come on then Mr Potter – I do believe something to eat is due, now that we've finished our business here"

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 **Please Review!**


	5. Diagon Alley (Part 2)

**Well - this somehow ended up even longer than Part 1. Some parts of this, especially those scenes in Ollivanders are taken directly from the book. I haven't highlighted them though because I find it takes away from the story. Just find bits that sound particularly well written and assume they aren't mine! Please review!**

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One wild cart ride later they stood blinking in the sunlight outside Gringotts, somehow passing through the bronze doors without having to go through the large hall first. Now Harry had his money, he didn't know where he wanted to start and was almost disappointed when the Professor said "Shall we head to the Leaky Cauldron, Mr Potter, for a spot of lunch before we get your robes"

He agreed reluctantly, looking longingly at the shops so cruelly denied to him. The corners of the Professor's lips quirked up "There will be plenty of time to explore later I assure you, but a pot of tea and some sandwiches will do us some good"

The sandwiches were very nice actually, if not a little stale, and the barkeeper gave him a bar of chocolate that tasted of strawberries and made pink bubbles blow from his nose. When he thanked the man for the sweet, he just said mysteriously 'It's nothing compared to what we owe you", with a knowing glint in his eyes.

" _You are definitely well known_ " Tom muttered, as the Professor scowled at Tom the Barkeeper so fiercely, that the old man cowered away. The incident seemed to make the teacher very aware of the time though, as she downed the rest of the tea in one mouthful and stood to leave, Harry following obediently.

"Right then" she said, as they entered Diagon Alley for the second time "I believe you should get some robes" She nodded towards a shop called ' _Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions_ ' "Here's your money. It will take a bit of time, so if you don't mind, I will return to Gringotts for my meeting"

Harry nodded "Of course Professor"

The shop was surprisingly big in comparison to how it looked from the outside, with large swathes of cloth from the wall, and large books floating around above their heads that swooped down in front of Harry and flicked themselves open to display robe patterns and cloth samples. Madam Malkin came over to him, flicking a wrist at the books to make them fly away. She was a squat, smiling witch dressed all in mauve.

"Sorry my dear – the books are playing up today. Hogwarts?" she asked, before Harry even had a chance to speak "Got the lot here –another young man being fitted up just now, in fact"

Harry looked up to the back of the shop to see a boy with a pale, pointed face standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes. He reminded him a little of Tom – not in looks because the only thing similar about the two was their pale skin, but in the way they held themselves. Like they were innately better than everyone else and there was nothing anyone else could do about it.

" _Could be a good ally_ " Tom said, agreeing with Harry's initial assessment " _Stand up straight – make a good impression_ "

Madam Malkin stood Harry on a stool next to the boy, slipped a long robe over his head and began to pin it to the right length

"Hello" said the boy "Hogwarts too?"

"Yes" said Harry

"My father's next door buying my books and Mother's up the street looking at wands" He had a bored, drawling voice "Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first-years can't have their own. I think I'll bully Father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow"

The boy suddenly reminded him much more of Dudley than Tom. Dudley could sometimes pull off the 'I'm better than you look' too, but he usually ruined it by speaking.

"Have you got your own broom?"

"No" said Harry

"Play Quidditch at all?"

"No" Harry said again, and Tom kicked him to say something else "I'm afraid I don't know much about anything yet – I was raised by muggles"

The boy's face changed into something like disgust – like Aunt Petunia when she had to discuss Harry with the neighbours "Oh – you're a _muggleborn_ " He somehow made the word sound like an insult. Harry bristled and Tom kicked him again

"No. Mum and Dad were magic. They died though"

"Oh – ok. I'm sorry" He didn't sound sorry at all. Instead he sounded very much appeased and Harry decided he didn't like him "I can't imagine being raised by muggles. I mean – you should be raised by your own kind, know what I'm saying?"

Harry did, and found himself nodding

"Anyway – do you know what house you're going to be in?"

"Um...no?" Harry said again. He was getting the feeling that this boy liked the sound of his own voice

"Well, I suppose no one really knows until they get there, do they? But I know I'll be in Slytherin – all our family have been. I suppose Ravenclaw would be alright, but I think I'd just leave if I ended up in Hufflepuff, don't you?" Harry made a vague noise of agreement "Ah – you wouldn't know about that would you? Those heathen muggles. Well – the school is split into 4 houses..."

He was cut off by Madam Malkin, who said to Harry "That's you done, my dear"

She pulled the robes off his head, and set them on the side "Just a second for the sewing charm to hold, and why don't you come over here to pay. There we are dear – I think the professor is waiting outside for you"

She was, and 5 minutes later Harry was joining her with his purse lighter and his new robes folded neatly in a bag about the half the size it should be. He was quiet as they headed to another shop, this one called Horatio's Trunks and Cases, enough so that Tom nudged his shoulder and said "The moment we get to a book store, we'll get everything we can on wizarding culture and Hogwarts, and we'll memorise it. Both of us. I'll help you"

That made Harry smile, and cheer up a bit and whilst he couldn't actually say anything with the Professor watching him so closely, he showed his appreciation by flashing his friend a quick smile.

"Ah – Minerva. Have you broken your trunk with another transfiguration mishap?" asked a man who looked even older than the teacher. She shook her head

"I'm afraid not – I'm just here to accompany a Hogwarts student"

"Really? Isn't it Pomona who normally does the Muggleborn students?" he asked, and if Harry wasn't mistaken, he looked a little disappointed. Tom called him over from the other end of the shop and Harry walked over

" _Look at this – custom trunks_ " he said "They have multiple different components and you can have different wards engraved onto it for protection, and ease of use"

"And your interest has nothing to do with the fact you can have a compartment that can hold multiple book shelves?" Harry asked, taking the catalogue from where Tom was flipping pages in time with a breeze coming from the back door.

He had made his choices by the time the two had finished talking about some article in a publication called the International Journal of Enchantment, and was in process of writing them down on an order form he'd spotted behind the desk. Or he was trying to anyway, but so far he'd just ended up ruining the poor man's quill.

"I do believe we've kept your student long enough, Minerva"

"Oh yes – sorry Mr Potter" The store owner raised an eyebrow at that, but said nothing "We've just come in here for a Moleskin pouch and a standard Hogwarts Trunk"

"I do believe your student has other ideas. I am Horatio, good sir" He yook the order form from Harry's finger and somehow managed to interpret it "Very good choices – can I interest you in a full warding scheme? I do believe that it will sustain the protections you've included on your trunk much better than just simple enchanting and rune-work"

Harry looked at Tom, then back at the shop-owner "Whichever will work best – money is no object" He tried to imitate Tom's effortless haughtiness. It must have worked because McGonagall looked rather surprised and the shop owner laughed.

"Of course sir – if you are happy with your selection, the only thing left to decide it what material you want it covered with. Such a magnificent trunk needs a magnificent cover. I've just have a shipment different dragon skin come in... For your purposes I would recommend the Chinese Fireball. An intelligent dragon that has more innate magic than some other kinds. It tends to hold enchantments better than other skins and had a very striking colour" He waved his wand towards the back and book came into his hand. He flicked it open and showed Harry a red, small scaled sample. Harry looked at it, then at the other skins on the page

"What about that one?" Tom asked, pointing at a square of black scales, broad and thick. Harry looked at it, reaching a hand to run his fingers over the smooth skin

"Ah – good choice Mr Potter. The Hungarian Horntail. An aggressive breed with a strong hide to resist attacks from its own kind. It's not as good for putting enchantments on, but that's because it's difficult to etch the rune patterns onto. Fantastic for armour though" Harry thought about it for a moment

"Which would you recommend?" he finally asked and the shop-owner looked thoughtful for a moment

"If you like them both, I do believe it would be possible to do a mixture of the two"

"And it won't affect the properties at all?" he asked, looking pleased at the prospect

"Of course not, Mr Potter. So that is decided – 1 normal compartment, one library compartment, one apartment 'complex' with strong enough enchantments for permanent habitation if necessary and two additional miscellaneous compartments, size 5 with an option of 3 different layouts spelled into them. And you want tri-layered wards, separate passcodes for each layer and blood protections woven into the rune scheme as well as the standard housekeeping charms"

Harry nodded, and the man disappeared into the backroom somewhere, talking excitedly about 'finally having a challenge'.

"You do realise, Mr Potter, that this will be very expensive. Much more so than a school trunk needs to be. You don't need anything more than standard" Professor McGonagall said, looking more than a little concerned

"I know" Harry said, repeating what Tom said to him "But these Ministry leaflets say that a good quality trunk can last for over 20 years with the right care, and considering the respect you offered him I would assume that he is skilled and trustworthy craftsman"

"Horatio is that" McGonagall said "And I've never known his prices to be anything but fair. So be it, Mr Potter. As long as you have thought this through"

"I have Professor" Harry said, meaning it. Tom had never steered him wrong before, and if he thought this was a good idea, then it probably was.

"Right then" Horatio came back with a piece of parchment that listed Harry's order "It will take about a week to get the trunk up and running. I'll need a down payment of 150 galleons. And it will be another 150 when you collect the trunk. And I'll throw in a Moleskin pouch as well just because you gave me such an interesting project"

Harry looked at the paper – 300 galleons. That equated to £7500 – more than he'd ever spent on anything in his life. But it was an investment, and a good one if it really lasted as long as he hoped it would. Tom gave him a nudge.

"I'll give you an extra galleon if you give me an upgrade on the Moleskin pouch" he said, smiling and the man chuckled

"You drive a hard bargain sir" the man said, but he looked amused by Harry's chutzpah "Alright then – the MSX2000. Weightless, extension and antitheft charms with inbuilt summoning capabilities and widening rim. Unbreakable of course, self-cleaning and a new internal cushioning system that stops fragile items from getting damaged inside. 5 year guarantee and normally 20 galleons" He handed Harry an unremarkable, brown leather pouch with a drawstring top. "If you'll just sign here Mr Potter – I'll have it done by Tuesday next week. I just need your deposit"

"Do you have enough Mr Potter? I asked only that you pack 50 galleons"

"Oh – I put in more than that. I'm a bit of a bookworm – I thought I might end up owing the bookshop a lot of money if I didn't put at least a few hundred galleons extra" Or Tom would anyway – he had a feeling his 'imaginary' friend was going to cost him a lot of money. He took his moneybag from the Professor and started counting out large gold coins until there were 150 on the counter. Then, with a nod from Tom, he signed the bottom of the contract

"Perfect Mr Potter – I'll see you next week"

"Thank you sir" Harry said, beaming like a child at Christmas. He had a thought "Um... sorry sir. Do you know if the Potters have a family crest?"

"They do, Mr Potter. All of the old families do. Would you like me to put it on your trunk" Harry was quiet for a second, then nodded "I'll just need a small spot of blood to prove your identity. Give me a second..." He disappeared under his desk and there was a crashing sound as he searched for something. Harry turned to look at Tom who shrugged, then at the Professor who looked impatient "Ah-ha. There it is. Just prick your finger"

He passed Harry a needle, and without hesitation, the boy stabbed himself in the thumb with it. Blood welled up and he rubbed a little on the corner of the parchment Horatio had found. It was absorbed and a family tree started to appear on the parchment in blood red ink. The shopkeeper stared as the names 'James' and 'Lily' appeared

"Bless my soul... you really are..." Horatio said, staring at Harry again "I'll put the crest on the trunk, Mr Potter. No extra cost... In fact... you've paid in full. Just come back on Tuesday to pick it up..."

"I'm sorry? I mean... thank you?" Harry said, correcting himself at Tom's glare. He wasn't going to say no to such a huge discount, even if he didn't know the cause of it. He found his hand being taken in both of the shopkeeper's dry, wrinkled ones

"No need for thanks Mr Potter – it is I who should be thanking you. I owe you a great debt Mr Potter, we all do. And that disguise really does you no justice"

"If that is all Horatio" Professor McGonagall said, interrupting the handshake that had been going on for an uncomfortably long time "If you would let Mr Potter go"

"Yes... of course. I will see you again sir"

The rest of the shopping trip was as uneventful as it could be considering they were in a magical street. They bought quills and a large pile of parchment from Scrivenshaft, where it was only the combined efforts of Professor McGonagall and Tom that stopped Harry from buying colour-changing ink. They wouldn't let him buy a solid gold cauldron either (' _It says pewter for a reason Harry_ '), though they did get a nice set of scales for weighing potions ingredients and a collapsible brass telescope. Then they visited the apothecary, which was fascinating enough to make up for the horrible spell, a mixture of bad eggs and rotted cabbages. There were barrels of slimy stuff stood on the floor, jars of herbs and dried roots and bright powders and pickled animals on the walls, bundles of feathers, string of fangs and snarled claws hanging from the ceiling. While McGonagall ordered a supply of basic potions ingredients for Harry, Harry himself examined silver unicorn horns at 21 galleons each, and miniscule, glittery black beetle eyes (5 knuts a scoop). Tom had found some interesting book in a glass cabinet whose name was obscured by a black stain.

Flourish and Blotts was next, and the windows didn't do justice to the inside. Harry thought Tom might have found his heaven, with shelves stacked to the ceiling with books as large as paving stones bound in leather; books the size of postage stamps in covers of silk; books full of peculiar symbols and a few books with nothing in them at all. Harry had to all-but drag Tom away from a book called _Curses and Counter-Curses (Bewitch your friends and Befuddle your enemies with the latest revenges; Hair loss, jelly-legs, tongue-tying and much, much more)_ by Professor Vindictus Viridian, while Harry himself had to be dragged away from a book called _Spell Creation and Enchanting with a particular focus on the use of transfiguration as a means to overcome the species-power barrier by Professor R. A. Black._

In the end, they left with little more than the books on their list and a small pile of background reading; _Hogwarts; A History_ by Bathilda Bagshot, _Modern Magical History_ by Professor Garius Tomkink, _A Muggleborn's Guide to the Wizarding World_ by Henry Dyer and _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century_ by Chroniculus Punnet. They had managed to fit all of his purchases into the Moleskin pouch and it seemed to have barely made a dent in the small bag

"Right then Mr Potter, I believe that is everything except a wand" Professor McGonagall said as Harry fed the bag with the last of his books. Harry looked up from his task with a shiver of excitement. A magic wand... that was what he'd really been looking forward to. They headed to the end of the street. The last shop was narrow and shabby, with peeling gold letters over the door that read _Ollivanders; Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC._ A single wand lay on a purple cushion in the dusty window.

A tinkling bell rang from somewhere in the depths of the shop as they went inside. It was a tiny place, empty except for a single, spindly chair which the Professor sat gingerly on to wait. Harry felt as though he had just entered a very strict library, and even Tom was uncharacteristically silent as he looked at the thousands of narrow boxes piled neatly right up to the ceiling. For some reason, the back of his neck prickled. The very dust and silence in here seemed to tingle with some secret magic.

"Good afternoon" said a soft voice, and Harry jumped. An old man was suddenly standing in front of him, his pale, wide eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop.

"Hello" Harry replied awkwardly, and for once Tom didn't say anything about his lack of verbosity.

"Ah yes" said the man "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon, Harry Potter" It wasn't a question, and Harry received the distinct impression that the man was seeing right through Professor McGonagall's glamour charm "You have your mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work"

Mr Ollivander moved closer to Harry. Harry wished he wold blink. Those silvery eyes were a bit creepy

"Your father on the other hand, favoured a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration" He nodded at Professor McGonagall "Well, I say your father favoured it – it's really the wand that chooses the wizard of course"

Mr Ollivander had come so close now that he and Harry were nose to nose. Harry could see himself reflected in those misty eyes, and he found himself incapable of looking away

"And that's where..."

Mr Ollivander touched the lightening scar on Harry's forehead with a long, white finger. Harry flinched away and suddenly Tom was there in front of him, separating him from the wand maker. Mr Ollivander frowned for a moment and stepped away, seeming to have lost his train of thought. He spotted Professor McGonagall

"Minerva! Minerva McGonagall. How nice to see you again. Fir, 9 and a half inches, dragon heartstring core. Good wand, that one"

"It has served me well" the Professor said, not offering anything else. Ollivander blinked at her, then turned away and back to Harry

"Now then Mr Potter. Let me see" He pulled a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket "Which is your wand arm?"

"Er – well... I'm ambidextrous" Harry said, biting his lip. He was right handed, but Tom was left and when Harry was younger, Tom had decided he wanted Harry to left-handed as well. So Harry had taught himself to use both hands for most things "More comfortable on the right though"

"Well then – hold out your arm. That's it" He measured Harry from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round his head. As he did so, he explained a little about his wands and their cores. Engrossed in the speech, Harry suddenly realised that the tape measure (now measuring between his nostrils), was doing so on its own and Mr Ollivander was flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes.

"This will do" he said, and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor "Right then, Mr Potter. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave"

Harry took the wand, and feeling foolish, waved it around a bit, but Mr Ollivander snatched it out of his hand almost at once.

"Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try – " Harry tried, but he'd hardly raised the wand when it too was snatched back by Mr Ollivander and replaced by another. He had no idea what the wand maker was waiting for. The pile of tried wands was mounting higher and higher on the counter, and the frown on Mr Ollivander's face was deepening.

"How odd... your magic isn't responding to any of these wands. Not even a little" he said "It's almost as though you were a... but you received your letter" He looked to Professor McGonagall, who nodded imperceptibly. He brightened up a little "Never mind Mr Potter – we'll find the perfect match. I wonder, now – yes, why not – unusual combination - holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple"

He pulled down a narrow box, and immediately Tom (who'd been walking absently down the piles of wands and trying to make sense of the labelling system), turned to look. He walked over to Harry " _This one_ " he said, and Harry suddenly wished that he was alone so he could respond.

Harry reached for the wand, and he actually felt something – a spark of something at least. It couldn't have been what Mr Ollivander was looking for because the hope seemed to fall from his face.

" _For God's sake_ " Tom muttered, before reaching over and resting his hand over Harry's. Harry could suddenly feel warmth in his fingers and together they raised the wand above his head and a stream of red and gold sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light on the walls. Professor McGonagall looked relieved and Mr Ollivander cried "Oh bravo! Yes indeed, oh very good. Well, well, well... how curious... how very curious"

He put Harry's wand back into its box, and wrapped it in brown paper, still muttering "Curious... curious"

"Sorry" said Harry "But what's curious?"

10 minutes later, Harry left with a cold feeling in his chest. He didn't know who Ollivander had been talking of, but the way the Professor had stiffened had said it all. He considered asking the Professor more about it, about his parents and what had happened to make Harry so well known in the wizarding world, but he and Tom decided against it. They could find out on their own. They didn't need some teacher to help them find out about their own family.

So instead they made their way back down Diagon Alley, back through the wall and through the Leaky Cauldron, now empty. Harry didn't speak as they apparated back to Privet Driven apparently with nothing to show for their journey (being all hidden in Harry's Moleskin bag).

"It was good to meet you Professor" Harry said finally as they headed up the door to Privet Drive

"And you too Mr Potter. Here's your ticket for Hogwarts – the first of September, Kings Cross Station. Here's the address to the Leaky Cauldron to collect your trunk. If you're going without your Guardians, I would recommend the Knight Bus. Hold out your wand on the street and a triple decker, purple bus will come and pick you up. I will see you when term starts, Mr Potter"

Harry nodded. They were standing right outside his door now, and there was no excuse to keep talking any longer. He didn't want to stop though – he was scared that if he said goodbye, this would end up all being a dream and it would be back to his normal, bad life with the Dursleys. A burning hot hand squeezed his.

"Farewell, Mr Potter" Professor McGonagall said, and there was a crack, then she was gone.

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	6. Keeper of the Keys

**Another chapter - it may have a few mistakes in it because it is almost 2am and I've just finished/read through it. But I want to post it and see what people thing, so I'll do another edit tomorrow if I see anything major! Hope you all enjoy Harry's second trip to Diagon Alley, as he meets the Keeper of the Keys (who's a little different to who he is in the books!)**

 **Please Review!**

* * *

By the time Tuesday came along, Tom had read all of their school books whilst Harry was about half way through (having been hindered by writing out notes, scribbling queries and avenues of further research into the margins of all his books, and having Tom complain about his reading speed every 10 minutes). He now knew about the 4 houses of Hogwarts and their origin, he now knew about Quidditch. He knew the basics of wizarding politics, the occupations open to him when he finished Hogwarts and the major historical events of the last century. But most importantly, he now knew why everyone who recognised him in the wizarding world, treated him like a celebrity.

He'd found out the day after their trip to Diagon Alley. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had been depressingly predictable in their inability to decide whether they feared or hated him more, so Harry spent most of his time out of their way, working his way through _A Muggleborn's Guide to the Wizarding World_ , while Tom read _Modern Magical History_. It was disappointing after so many years of tolerable co-habitation that they were resorting back to not feeding him, but despite it all, they kept paying for his therapy sessions and martial arts lessons. He wasn't sure what to make of that.

It had been dinnertime, and he'd stolen a plate of food from downstairs and taken it to his room where Tom was sat. His textbook was open on the desk, and Harry had just taken a mouthful of lasagne when Tom made a very un-Tom-like noise of surprise. Then, Harry had found a book being pressed into his already full hands and he read the paragraph he was pointing at.

 _The rise of You-Know-Who seemed inevitable after his success in nearly obliterating the Bones and Prewett family. Strikes against muggleborns increased every day, as well as Dementor and Werewolf attacks. The Ministry of Magic, destabilised by the use of the Imperius curse on some high up employees, tried its best against the onslaught, with Aurors being given new rights (see appendix 3.6.4) and personal protection charms being issued to every wizarding family in the hopes to ward off the inferius He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named favoured, as well as the Dark Magical creatures he'd allied with._

 _Then came the changing tide of the war. Many families had gone into hiding since You-Know-Who started targeting Light-aligned families, and one of these was the Potters. James Potter (pureblood) and his wife Lily Potter nee Evans (muggleborn) hid behind wards in Godric's Hollow with their infant son, Harry James Potter. You-Know-Who targeted their house on All Hallows Eve in 1981 for reasons unknown. From there, it is a mystery. All that we know for sure, is that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named killed the young couple, but when he turned his wand onto Harry to perform the killing curse, the boy did not die. Instead, the curse rebounded onto the Dark Lord himself, killing him instead of its intended target._

 _Young Mr Potter was found in at the scene by Rubeus Hagrid and taken to a secret location on Dumbledore's orders, with only a lightning bolt scar on his forehead as proof of the dark magic that touched him. Mr Potter is now known as the Boy-Who-Lived, and the wizarding world awaits eagerly for the day he will return and take his place in the wizarding world._

"They think I killed a dark wizard?" Harry asked, reading the passage again. There were several more chapters detailing the Wizarding War, and theories regarding how he had survived the Killing Curse, but Harry was more interested in the basics

" _The Boy Who Lived – not a very creative moniker_ " Tom said, sitting next to Harry on the bed "Well – at least we'll have good political standing. According to the book you're reading, half-bloods aren't looked upon as badly as muggleborns, but how you were raised will play a big part in their perception. This will help greatly in…"

"I don't care" Harry shouted, shutting Tom up "My parents were murdered, and they think I'm a hero and _they_ lied to me! Again – about her own sister!"

" _Did you expect any different?_ " Tom had asked softly, but he went quiet again as Harry's eyes filled with tears.

"They were murdered – they didn't want to leave me. They weren't stupid, irresponsible drunkards…" he said. He sounded relieved, then felt immediately guilty because relief wasn't what you should feel after finding out your parents were murdered. Tom sighed, pulling Harry into his arms.

" _Of course they weren't – we'll get them someday, Harry. We'll make them pay for hurting you like this_ " And for once, Harry didn't argue. Instead he sobbed quietly into Tom's shoulder well into the night, until he'd fallen asleep dreaming of green lights, a woman's scream and a high-pitched laugh.

* * *

The knight bus was huge, purple and manned by a conductor with far too many pimples to be natural. He held a couple of notecards in his hand, and looking down at them, spoke in a loud, monotone,

"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded Witch or Wizard. Just stick out your wand hand, step on board and we can take you anywhere you want to go. My name is Stan Shunpike, and I will be your conductor for this morn-"

The conductor stopped abruptly. He had just caught sight of Harry, and had quite comically lowered his head from the expected height of an adult wizard, to the 11 year old in front of him.

"How old 'choo?" he asked, brow furrowing.

"Eleven" Harry answered.

"Choo bit young t' be travellin on y'own? Where's y'parents?"

"Already at Diagon Alley" Harry lied "They work there, you see? I'm meeting them for lunch but we ran out of Floor Powder, so I thought I'd get the bus" He shrugged "They won't mind"

Stand nodded, as though that made perfect sense "A'right then – Diagon Alley it is. That will be 11 sickles"

Harry put a hand in his pouch and said "Eleven sickles' feeling the amount fly into his hand. He and Tom had spent many hours experimenting with the MSX2000, and found the summoning function to be quite fascinating. Once paid, he hurried up the stairs and into the bus. There were a number of seats and Harry took one right behind the driver, who was sitting in an armchair behind the wheel

"This is our driver, Ernie Prang" Stan said, and the elderly wizard straightened his thick glasses, before nodding to Harry in greeting "Ern – this is... didn't get your name"

"Tom" Harry said quickly, flattening down his fringe anxiously despite having used Aunt Petunia's concealer that morning to cover his scar.

"Tom" Stan repeated, seeming satisfied by the answer. He took a seat in the armchair next to the driver "Take 'er away, Ern"

It was the most uncomfortable journey Harry had ever taken. There was a tremendous BANG as the bus sped forward, the speed of it forcing Harry's back to the seat though Stan seemed completely unaffected. To add to this, Ernie hadn't seemed to have mastered the use of the steering wheel. The knight bus kept mounting the pavement, but it didn't hit anything; lines of lamp posts, letter-boxes and bins jumped out of its way as it approached and back into position once it had passed. He couldn't have been on the bus for more than 10 minutes when Ern stamped on the brakes, making the seats slip a foot or so towards the front. It felt like a lifetime.

"The Leaky Cauldron" Stan announced, as though people didn't recognise the dark, shabby pub with the name written in large letters about the door.

About 5 people disembarked alongside Harry, and all looked just as pleased as he was to have gotten off of the contraption alive. There was another loud BANG as the bus started off again. The Leaky Cauldron was much like Harry remembered it, except it was a lot busier this time around. Harry kept his head down, Tom walking ahead of him so they could cut through the mass of people around the bar with ease until they reached the archway to Diagon Alley, slipping through with another couple of people.

" _Right – Gringotts first_ " Tom announced as they entered the street, and Harry nodded his agreement as they traversed the cobblestones to the tall, white building. It was more intimidating now he was here on his own, but the overlarge bronze and silver doors had hardly any weight to them and the goblins guarding them were just as 'polite'. He walked to a counter.

"Hello – I need to take some money out of my safe"

The goblin looked down at him, removing a glass eyepiece "Name and key please"

"Mr Harry James Potter" Harry paused – he knew there was something he had forgotten "Um... I don't have my key. I never took it off the Professor last time I came. You can get Griphook though – he was the goblin who took me to the vaults last time. He'll remember me"

"Mr Potter – we are not of the habit of letting people without their key enter a vault. Nor should you be of the habit of letting other people retain possession of your key"

Harry nodded, cheeks flaming and Tom glowering at the goblin "Yes sir" he said. The goblin seemed to like that moniker, as he looked up from the paperwork in front of him. He paused, then cocked his head as though listening to something.

"I suppose, since the Potter line is currently unclaimed, there is another way we can prove your identity" he said, glowering at Harry as though it were _his_ fault.

Harry looked up, smiling in the way Tom had taught him – charming and innocent and sweet. The Goblin looked sickened "Yes – there is no need for that. Bodrik – take Mr Potter to the Keeper"

The goblin who came over to them seemed smaller than the rest, with less wrinkles and without any gold adorning his uniform "Good Afternoon sir – right this way" Bodrik said, and hurried them towards the same door as they went through the last time they were here, except this time it led to a marble corridor. They walked down a little way, then went through into an office.

It was large and made of the same marble the hallway was made of, but somehow, embedded into the walls were thousands and thousands of keys, of every shape and size; bronze, silver and gold glinting from the white. Some were plain, some had elaborate runes engraved into the metal, some were encrusted with precious stones and Harry was somehow reminded of Ollivanders.

"My Potter" The voice startled him and he averted his gaze to the mahogany desk in the centre of the room. Another goblin sat behind it, the exact opposite of Bodrik in everything except height, with his three piece, gold and black suit and more wrinkles than any face had any right to have. Despite his diminutive stature, he radiated power and Harry knew this was someone who deserved respect

"Sir" Harry said. One of the books he read said that Goblins liked economy of words, and nothing displeased them more than blustering politicians. That had made Tom laugh, and he had determined them to be good potential allies "May your... your vaults be ever overflowing and you enemies quivering in fear?"

Tom kicked him for making the greeting sound like a question – it had been in a footnote in A Muggleborn's guide to the Wizarding World. The goblins tended to dislike muggleborns as they usually weren't very good customers, and the book had said a little civility could go a long way with a species that the majority distrusted.

"It has been a while since I heard the formal greeting" The Goblin said, "And I suppose I should offer you the same" The Goblin then croaked out something in a loud, guttural language that sounded more like a war cry than anything else. It was a little scary "Now the pleasantries are over with, I need you blood. About a cupful will do it"

Tom had thought they might be using blood again – like the parchment in the trunk shop, though this was a lot more than a few drops. He looked at Tom, who nodded, then back to the goblin "Where to?" he asked, and the goblin passed Harry a silver goblet and a beautiful, bejewelled dagger.

Harry took the blade in his hand and swiped it across the palm in a swift movement. He didn't flinch or show any sign of feeling the pain. Red welled up and he held it above the cup, blood dripping down and filling the vessel. It took the most of 10 minutes, and Harry had to reopen the cut several times before it was over. No one spoke a word. He looked at the goblin, a little light-headed but still determined.

" _He looked impressed_ " Tom said to him, as Harry pressed a linen cloth to his hand " _You did well Harry_ "

"This will suffice" The goblin said. He didn't offer any more explanation, before he dipped a gnarled finger into the liquid and rubbed it between his fingers. He sniffed it once, brought it to his tongue and licked it. Apparently, he found it to his liking as he reached beneath his desk, added two powders to the blood to make it turn azure, and then downed the whole goblet in one gulp. His eyes glazed over white and he started to move around the room at such a pace that Harry struggled to keep up with him. He stopped not even a minute later with about 20 keys, the majority bronze just like Harry's had been, but one was large and gold with what looked like rubies encrusted into the bow.

The goblin sat back down, blinking the white from his eyes. He looked down at the keys as though having never seen them before, before smiling a wide, sharp toothed smile. He was reminding Harry more of Ollivander by the second "Ah – an interesting selection here"

Harry nodded, not entirely sure whether he'd be able to speak without making a fool of himself.

"This one here" He lifted up a small, bronze key with an intricate patterning on the bow "This is your Trust Vault which will continue refilling itself to a level of 10'000 Galleons until you become of age, at which point the vault becomes your main vault and any additions to it must be your own. This one here" Another key, silver this time "Was your parent's vault. There is little over 23'000 galleons in here, the majority from posthumous donations in your family's name. You'll inherit this when you reach Financial Majority"

He picked up the gold, ruby encrusted one next "This is for the Potter Vault. The Potter name is an ancient family, not noble because of their lack of descent from old aristocracy. There is little money – a mere 1'000'000 galleons, with a limited withdrawal of 500 galleons per year for personal use. No maximum limit for charitable donations. The Potters were very much of the opinion that there family members should be making money, not living off their vaults" The goblin sounded like he very much approved of this approach. Harry was just staring – he had more than one vault? And a million galleons? "But there is much in the form of property there – both real estate, shares, heirlooms and other peculiarities. Of course, it is forbidden to sell any of it, but it may all be used by someone of the Potter lineage. You'll have access to these vaults when you come of age, but may visit them with your Magical Guardian from the time you reach Financial Majority"

"Finally, these are from vaults that have been left to you after your defeat of Lord Voldemort" Harry blinked, confused for a moment and Tom grinned

" _That's his name – the name of the one who murdered you parents_ " Tom said, confirming Harry's own thoughts on the matter. The Goblin had carried on talking

"They were bequeathed to you by the last of the family line – muggleborns the majority so between them there is little more than 30000 galleons" He pushed the rest of the remaining keys into a little pile of bronze. "I can give you a list of names if you wish, though it is useless as there is no one left to thank. As this money was left directly to you, you have control over it from the moment you claim it. I can arrange for the money to be put directly into an account for the modest fee of 250 galleons"

Harry smiled, not sure if he was entirely following this correctly "And how much will it cost to leave them as is?"

The goblin shrugged "They have been marked as inactive, meaning that the Ministry has been paying the vault fees until the inheritor can make it to Gringotts to claim then. Moving them to one vault would save you 20 galleons a month compared to what the Minister is paying"

"And if I leave it"

"You claimed them by giving us your blood" the Goblin said. His small eyes were black again "The Ministry will either seize them or you shall pay the vault price

"Ok... let's move them then" Harry said "But I'm not stupid enough to accept 250 Galleons. Try 50"

The Goblin looked a little surprised by Harry's counteroffer "I may lower it to 150 Galleons, Mr Potter, but no lower"

Harry considered that for a moment – Tom had urged him to try for lower, and he'd listened. But he didn't want to rip the goblins off – from his history textbook, they'd had enough of that over the years. And the goblin was rather scary. "Ok – 150 Galleons" The goblin smiled, and Harry swallowed uneasily

"Deal Mr Potter – the money will be taken from your trust vault. Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"Oh – yes. I need a key for my Trust Vault. And this new one you're making for me" Harry looked down at the table top only to find the desk completely bare. He turned to look at around the room, seeing the keys already back in their original positions, buried deep in the wall.

"Of course – here we are Mr Potter" The goblin handed Harry two bronze keys from the inside of his waistcoat "I imagine I will see you again soon – ask Bodrik and he will take you to your vault on the way out. He needs the practise"

Harry looked dazed for a moment, before realising he was being dismissed "Yes... thank you sir" He stood up, and figuring it was the polite thing to do, he bowed deeply at the waist before hurrying out the door. He almost ran into Bodrik on the way out.

"Oops – sorry" he said as the goblin glared at him

"Did you meeting go well sir?" Bodrik asked, looking curiously at the door

"Well enough" Harry said, shrugging "Oh yes – I was told to ask you to take me to my vault"

The Goblin nodded, somehow looking... nervous "He asked you?" he asked, and Harry realised his initial assessment was correct. This was a young Goblin "He asked you himself?"

"Um... yes?" Harry replied, and the Bodrik looked down the corridor as though hoping someone would appear to alleviate him of the task "I can get someone else if you're..."

"I can do it"

It was a bumpy ride down to the vault, and the Goblin spent the entire time at the front gripping the edge tightly and muttering under his breath. They returned back in an awkward silence, compounded by the fact the cart almost fell of the tracks on a particularly sharp corner. It was only when Harry left the building, through a small antechamber with a large portrait of a goblin, that he realised he'd just met the Head of Gringotts and his son.

* * *

"Here we are – have you ever seen such a masterpiece?" Horatio asked as they walked into his shop. Harry stared at the trunk in amazement. The sides were of the deep red of the Fireball, but the corners and edges reinforced with the dark scales of the Horntail. The lid was deep black but individual scales of red broke up the pattern. Finally, just below the lock, somehow embossed on the skin and painted in gold, was the Potter Family Crest; a shield with three cinquefoil with a helmet resting above it with a rearing hippocampus on top. Feathers arose from either side of the helmet and in the patterning of them, it was possible to see two flaming phoenixes. Underneath was the Potter family motto ' _Aude aliquid dignum'._ Dare Something Worthy. It was beautiful and the craftsmanship unmistakable. Harry was beaming as the man continued to explain "I tried to make it so the areas that receive the most physical damage were covered in the Horntail, whilst the areas that were most enchantment heavy were of the Fireball. The lock is made of charmed gold, as is the detailing. It really is one of my best works"

He opened it up, proceeding to show Harry each of the compartments, including one that had stairs down into an area as big as a mid-sized apartment "It has artificial gravity charms so anything you set up here won't fall over when you move the trunk – they'll need to be reapplied every summer for now though. They're a relatively new invention of mine so I'm still working on the rune scheme for large items. Of course it will be no charge"

"Thank you" Harry said sincerely, reaching into his bag to pay the rest of the money despite the fact the man had refused it before

"No – I couldn't" Horatio started, but Harry shook his head

"I insist – I couldn't pay anything less with the quality of this... I must thank you" Harry said, and Tom actually agreed with him. He paid the money.

"You just need to activate the blood runes and we'll be on our way" Horatio said, putting the galleons on the counter. Harry remembered a question he had.

"Isn't blood magic forbidden?" he asked "Dark magic?"

Horatio laughed "Technically, but as long as the Wizengmot want optimally protected storage facilities, I doubt they'll be putting me in Azkaban for a while. I have their signed contracts after all"

Harry thought about that for a moment, then shrugged and picked at the newly formed scab on his hand until it bled again "Where to?" he asked. If Horatio wondered about the cut, he didn't mention it.

"Just here" he said, indicating to the hippocampus on top of the crest. Harry did as he was told, and the Hippocampus did a back flip, whilst the Phoenixes burst into Golden flames before settling back down into their usual patterns. Horatio nodded "There we go – if you have any trouble, send me a letter and I'll see what I can do. It was an honour Mr Potter... would you like a bandage?"

Harry did, and soon his hand was bound and he was taking his trunk (shrunk and in his MSX2000) back into Diagon Alley for another look around. Needless to say, he bought enough books on various subjects to make the person managing the till faint, as well as befriending the strange man in the Plant Shop after showing an interest in the hat-stealing tree (apparently a cross between Devil Snare, an oak tree and a sunflower), discovering the joys of wizarding games, buying a magical first aid kit to fix his hand and adopting a beautiful snowy owl ('Because she can carry our mail for us, and the letter doesn't say anything about pet snakes Tom'). All in all, he thought as he licked chocolate sauce and sprinkles off his mint choc-chip ice-cream cone, mentally preparing himself for the trauma that was 'The Knight Bus', it had been a good day.

* * *

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	7. Platform Nine and Three Quarters

**This chapter was really hard to write! Still, it's here now, and nothing like I originally planned it. This was meant to be Harry meeting Hermione and agreeing to ally with Malfoy. Unfortunately Harry had other plans...**

 **Still - I hope you all enjoy!**

 **Some parts of this are directly lifted from J K Rowlings work, and it isn't highlighted because I find that takes away from the story. Just search for the well-written bits!**

 **Please review!**

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Harry became quite familiar with Stan Shunpike and Ernie, travelling up to Diagon Alley several times over the rest of the summer to replenish books and familiarise himself with the wizarding world. He also really liked the ice cream. Therefore, it was to a warm welcome he alighted the large purple bus, with his trunk in his MXS200 and owl cage (complete with owl) held carefully in his free hand.

"Mornin' Tom" Stan greeted as he came on board "You parents workin' again?"

"Unfortunately – doesn't matter though. I know where I'm going" Harry said, which was true. He'd read that Platform Nine and Three Quarters was accessible by walking between platform nine and ten at King's Cross, and just to check those directions were correct, he'd been to visit there with Tom. Unfortunately, the book had failed to note that other magical trains left from the platform and the place had been quite crowed. He'd had to disappear quickly before someone recognised him and Tom had found the whole ordeal hysterical.

"'Choo sure? I could walk there with choo – Ern won't mind, would choo Ern?"

Ern made a gesture that could have been a 'Yes' or a 'No'.

"Thanks Stan – it's alright though. I'm used to doing things on my own"

That didn't seem to assuage the young man, but he nodded "Alright – but choo send me letters and all to say how's choo gettin' on"

Harry nodded, ignoring the irritated look Tom was aiming at the conductor, mirrored by the few passengers sitting downstairs. He walked to his regular seat and settled down, Hedwig's cage on his lap. The beautiful owl was looking balefully at him, annoyed at being confined to the cage

"Sorry girl" he muttered, sticking his fingers through the bars to stroke her chest feathers "It's just until we get to Hogwarts – rules said we had to register you before I can let you fly there on your own" She nipped his fingers a little too hard to be affectionate, before letting herself be petted. Tom scowled

" _Snake still would have been better_ " he complained, and that was the end of the conversation.

There were a few other stops before they made it to King's Cross Station at quarter past 10. Stan had informed him a week ago that on September 1st they did an early run and a late run to the station, and that it was the latter which got busy. Harry had no want to face the crowds before he had to. The platform was almost empty when he arrived, different to his last visit. Also different was the large, scarlet steam engine, puffing smoke out of a dragon shaped chimney and with the words _Hogwart's Express_ in gold lettering on the side.

Harry took a seat in the back coach, the whole compartment to himself. He pulled out his trunk and started searching through his library, finding a couple of potions texts and pulling them out "Test me" he said to Tom, not bothering to actually hand the boy the books. The fact his imaginary friend had an eidetic memory yet Harry didn't should really break some sort of rule.

" _Difference between Aconite and Wolfsbane?_ "

"Seriously? You're starting with a trick question?" Harry asked, laughing "They're the same plant. Also known as Monkshood"

" _Fine – the essence of what plant can be used to make fresh skin grow over a wound?_ "

"Um... wait. I know this – Dittany. Essence of Dittany"

" _Correct_ " Tom said, smiling. He looked pleased with Harry. They continued like this for a while, until the train started to fill up and Harry realised he would get noticed if he continued giving answers to questions no one else could hear. The platform now was a mass of people and Harry watched a chubby boy with dark hair chase a toad around a platform whilst an old woman with a vulture hat scowled at him disapprovingly. Just coming through the barrier was a large red headed family that were laughing with each other in a way that made Harry's chest ache a little. He looked away, only to find Tom looking intently out the window at the same family

" _They're the Weasley's_ " he said " _Pureblood but poor. Known for having large families but no girls. The females they do produce though are very magically powerful, and usually the 7th. It appears this branch has followed the trend_ "

"You're scary – do you know that?" Harry asked, turning back to watch the mother give her youngest son a large hug, whilst the boy pretended not to enjoy it.

" _Part of my charm_ " Tom replied " _Anyway – they're very light orientated. You'll alienate a huge number of people if you befriend them_ "

"I've already told you I'm making friends, not allies" Harry said, amused, and Tom scowled at him

" _You have to think of your future – honestly Harry. Have I taught you nothing over the years?_ "

There was a knock at the door that distracted Harry from replying, and he turned to see a girl with lots of bushy brown hair and rather large front teeth standing in the doorway

"Hi" she said, rather shyly, before spying the textbooks Harry had out "Oh – I haven't seen those books before. They're not on the reading list – did you buy them as reference? I mean, I had my parents buy a few extra books as background reading but they couldn't afford to get all the ones I wanted. They're dentists you see. No one in my family is magic at all – it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased of course. I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard. I've learned all our set books off by heart of course, I just hope it will be enough. I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?"

She said all this very fast.

Harry looked at Tom, who was staring at the girl appreciatively. Tom had always liked people who were interested in studying. It wasn't that Harry didn't enjoy his lessons, he just liked other things more, like martial arts and making friends with the local snakes. Tom was good at keeping him on track though "Nice to meet you Hermione – I'm Harry Potter"

"Are you really?" said Hermione "I know all about you, of course. You're in _Modern Magical History_ and _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ and _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century_ "

Harry nodded "I know – not sure how much of it is true though. I mean, no one was actually there. How can they know what happened?"

Hermione thought about that for a moment "Someone must know – I mean, why would they publish something they know isn't true?" she said "Anyway – can I sit with you? I don't really know anyone, being muggleborn" She said the last word carefully, like she was speaking a foreign language.

"Of course you can" Harry said, pleased he had made a friend "Do you want help with your trunk?"

Between the two of them, they quickly had Hermione's trunk stowed away in the overhead storage "Damn – I should have got a book out" she said after they finished lifting it.

"No problem – you can borrow mine. I was just going over potions – I spoke to someone who's just left Hogwarts and he said the potion's master was a right bastard"

"Language" Hermione said before Tom could even get the words out. The imaginary friend smirked.

"What – it was a quote" Harry said, holding his hands up "Anyway – I think I have all the spells memorised but potions is more complicated"

"I sort of agree" Hermione said, sitting down in front of Harry "But it does remind me a little of Chemistry. I skipped a couple of grades at school and was just starting it – did you get the _The Little Book of Potion Reactions_? Some of the combinations in here reminded me of the reactions of the Alkali Metals and water. In fact, I think lithium is actually used in some potions... wait a sec"

The next 10 minutes were spent trying to climb up to retrieve said book, then they fell into a comfortable silence, only broken to discuss points they'd come across in each other's texts that differed from what they'd already read. It was surprisingly comfortable. Harry never felt comfortable around other people – possibly because it meant he couldn't talk to Tom anymore. Imaginary friends stop being cute when you get to about 8 years old.

"Is it true? They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"

Harry looked up from his book – it was the blond boy from the shop, along with two other boys, both of them thick set and looking extremely mean. Standing either side of the boy, they looking like bodyguards.

" _People on the train are talking about us? We haven't had anyone except Miss Granger come in – we need to keep a lower profile_ " Tom muttered, sounding a little annoyed, like the gossip was a personal failing of his

"Yes" Harry said abruptly, turning his gaze from the two bodyguards, to the blond. He was showing a lot more interest than he had in Diagon Alley

"Oh – this is Crabbe and this is Goyle" said the pale boy carelessly, noticing where Harry was looking "And my name's Malfoy. Draco Malfoy"

" _Malfoy – old pureblood family. Not as old as the Potters though – came over from France in the Normandy invasion as French aristocracy. Only gained pureblood status about 30 generations back. Rich though and his father's high in the ministry. If you don't befriend him Harry, I swear I will make you first week at Hogwarts a living hell_ "

Harry wished, not for the first time, that Tom wasn't so invested in his future. He was 11 – he couldn't care less about alliances. He just wanted to meet some nice people who didn't know him as 'That orphan troublemaker the Dursley's adopted'.

"Well – you know my name, and this is Hermione Granger"

Hermione looked up from her book, pretending she hadn't just spent the whole of the conversation glancing peeks over the cover. She closed it and smiled, holding out her hand respectfully "Pleased to meet you"

"Any relation of the famous potion's master?" Draco asked, sounding surprisingly cordial. Harry turned to Tom, who shrugged his ignorance to the name. Hermione seemed to recognise it though

"I'm afraid not – my parents are muggles, you see. We did have a look back on the family tree, but if he is related it's probably so distant it doesn't matter"

Draco dropped her hand "Muggleborn?"

"Yes" Hermione said, looking unsure of herself again, opening and closing the cover of the book nervously. Draco turned to Harry, completely ignoring the bushy-haired witch.

"You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others Potter, and that some aren't true... wizards at all. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there"

He held out his hand to shake Harry's and Tom glared at him. Harry swallowed "I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks" Harry said, and Tom groaned, holding his head in his hands. Draco Malfoy didn't go red, but a pink tinge appeared on his cheeks.

Harry wasn't finished "I want to make friends with people at Hogwarts Malfoy, and I don't care about whether they're pureblood or muggleborn. Nothing I've read has suggested that purity of blood contributes to power, and really – that's the only thing that's important in the end, isn't it? Power? Or would Draco Malfoy refuse the friendship of one of the smartest minds Hogwarts is likely to have seen in centuries because he was too thick headed to see past something as inconsequential as blood?"

Malfoy looked furious now, and the pink had managed to spread from cheeks to his neck. Tom was now hitting his head against the compartment window, muttering ' _I've raised an idiot_ ', and Hermione was watching the rattling glass in order to hide how pleased she was at the compliment

"I'd be careful if I were you Potter" Malfoy spat "Unless you're careful you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them either. You hang around with riff-raff like this, and it'll rub off on you. You'll realise it soon though. Perhaps I'll even let your crawl back to me then"

"Really Malfoy?" Harry said, standing up, and Malfoy sneered

"Oh – you're going to fight us, are you?"

"Unless you get out now" said Harry, more bravely than he felt. But he wasn't going to have this spoilt brat insult someone who could be a new friend. Still, Crabbe and Goyle were a lot bigger than him, and whilst he knew technically he could take out a larger opponent, he'd never employed it in a real-life situation before

"But we don't feel like leaving, do we boys? I thought I could hear more about how powerful the mud... Miss Granger is"

Goyle reached forward to pluck the book from Hermione's hand, but Harry was quicker. He put the boy into an arm lock, applying pressure until the boy whimpered in pain. Malfoy looked stunned.

"What is it Malfoy? Surely you weren't overpowered by a muggle form of fighting?" Harry asked, and from the corner of his eye, he could see Tom walk over to start removing the trio from the compartment. He gave Goyle a shove to join the others

"You wait Potter" Malfoy threatened, but all three disappeared very quickly after Tom started stepping into their personal space.

Harry sank back into his chair " _You're an idiot_ " he heard Tom say " _Do you go out of your way to ignore me? Antagonise the son of a major political figure... at least you weren't a pushover. That was a good armlock, and a good use of intimidation. At least I taught you something over the years. But really Harry – diplomacy, alliances, politics. It's important if we're ever... are you even listening to me?_ "

He wasn't – he was looking at Hermione, who was looking at him with a shy smile on her face "You don't know how clever I am Harry. You barely know me – you certainly didn't need to defend me. I'm used to bullies like him"

"Well... you're my friend aren't you?" Harry asked, confused "I've not had many friends before. And of course you're smart – you're reading a fourth year potions book and bringing up questions and points of interest that even I haven't found, and I've read it twice. You must be a prodigy"

Hermione went bright red now "Well – you've read it too" she said

" _Yes – and only understood it once I'd explained it_ " Tom muttered, re-entering the compartment. Harry hadn't realised he had left. " _The Malfoy heir has gone. There's a boy looking for a toad out there though – you should help him. I think he's a pureblood. You need a mixture of friends_ "

"I didn't get it as quickly as you" Harry said, standing up as though to close the door. He poked his head around the compartment to look at the hallway. The chubby boy from the station was there, looking like he was going to burst into tears "Are you ok?"

The boy looked over "Oh... I'm fine. I just... I've lost Trevor. M... my toad"

Hermione stood up and came to investigate "Oh – would you like us to help you look for him? I'm sure Harry wouldn't mind. Where have you looked already? And where did you last see him?"

The boy looked rather intimidated by Hermione's rather bossy set of questions. He gulped, and Harry decided to step in

"Perhaps we'll start with names first, Hermione" he said "I'm Harry and this is Hermione. You are?"

"Longbottom" the boy said "Neville Longbottom. You're muggleborn aren't you?"

"Is that a problem?" Harry asked, and Neville flushed bright red.

"No – not at all. I'm not one of those purebloods who thinks... not at all" He was stumbling over his words in order to correct their misconception.

"It's alright Neville – we've just met someone who thinks Hermione isn't a real witch because of her blood status. Anyway – what gave us away?"

"Oh... you know... no pureblood would introduce themselves with their first name. It's the family name that really matters" Neville explained, looking at his feet.

Harry looked at Hermione, who looked just as flummoxed as he was. Tom just nodded as though that made total sense " _See Harry – this is why we need a pureblood as a friend. And the Longbottoms are a well-respected family. The book Important Pureblood Family Lines – Who to Ally, Marry and Avoid, they were often allied to the Potter line, by formal agreements and marriage. Not as politically active anymore though - Malfoy really would have been a better choice_"

"Please stop with the commentary" Harry muttered, under his breath. Tom raised an eyebrow

" _You're going to stop me?_ " he asked

Harry turned back to the pair of _real_ students "Anyway – you're looking for your toad. Let's go look for it"

They spent the rest of the journey traversing up and down the various carriages. Surprisingly enough, Harry was only recognised in two compartments and by redheads both time. The twins he had seen joking with their family outside had realised who he was the moment he'd opened the door. They had showed him a tarantula their friend Lee Jordan had left with them whilst he went the toilet and had explained that they had just practising a spell to turn it bright pink. Hermione looked torn between chastising them, wanting to see real magic and feeling compelled to continue the search, so as a compromise, Fred and George promised to show them the end result when they got to the school. Even Tom had begrudgingly said that they might prove 'useful' despite their low standing as 'blood traitors'.

The second had been a small first year girl, who'd looked very serious as Harry entered the compartment.

"Oh – you _are_ here" she'd said as he entered, then flushed "Sorry... Auntie was really worried you wouldn't turn up. All she talked about all summer. I'm Susan Bones, and this is Hannah Abbot and Tracey Davis"

"Nice to meet you - I'm Harry" Tom kicked him "Potter. Harry Potter. Nice to meet you"

"You're really him?" Hannah asked, staring as though he were an exotic pet at the zoo "Do you really have that... that scar?"

"Hannah!" Susan said, sounding horrified "You can't ask that! Not when it was the night his parents..." She cut off, looking upset, and Hannah's face dropped

"It's ok" Harry said, feeling a little uncomfortable. He lifted his fringe "It's here – I just grow my hair long to cover it up"

At that point, Hermione had come to join him at the compartment and they found out that Tracey had seen a toad when she'd gone to the loo about 5 minutes ago. Sure enough, they found him and the trio went back to the compartment to enjoy what was left of the train ride, eating the Bertie Botts Every Flavoured Beans Neville had brought with him.

It was getting dark outside when they started to pull on their long black robes. A voice echoed through the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes time. Pease leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately.'

Harry's stomach lurched with nerves, Neville had gone very pale and Hermione was muttering furiously under her breath, what he thought were excerpts of ' _Hogwarts; A History'_. Annoyingly, Tom was preternaturally calm, though Harry supposed it was easy for someone that didn't exist outside of your imagination.

The train slowed right down and finally stopped. People pushed their way towards the door and out on to a tiny, dark platform. Harry shivered in the cold night air. Then a lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students and voice said "Firs'-years! Firs'-years over here!"

A giant of man could be seen over a sea of heads. His face was almost completely hidden by a long, shaggy mane of hair and a wild tangled beard, but you could make out his eyes, glinting like black beetles in the light of lantern .

"Harry!" the man said, and Harry looked up into the fierce, wild shadowy face and saw that the beetle eyes were crinkled in a smile "Las' time I saw you, you was only a baby. Yeh look a lot like yer dad, but yeh've got yer mum's eyes. Good woman she was – used to come down to visit me"

Harry stared blankly, and even Tom didn't know what to say. But he was happy for anyone to tell him more about his parents "Um... thank you sir"

"Oh - I ain't no sir. I'm Rubeus Hagrid. Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts" Hagrid looked around "An' talkin 'bout Hogwart" He started shouting again, in a booming voice that seemed to reverberate in Harry's chest "C'mon, follow me – any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"

Slipping and stumbling, they followed Hagrid down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark either side of them that Harry thought there must be thick trees there. Nobody spoke much and Neville sniffed once or twice. Harry tried to give a reassuring smile, but he didn't think it worked given Tom's chuckle.

"Yeh'll get your firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec" Hagrid called over his shoulder "Jus' round this bend here"

There was a loud "Ooooh"

The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its window sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.

" _We're home_ " Tom muttered, looking transfixed at the sight, and Harry had to agree with him.

"No more'n four to a boat" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Harry, Hermione and Neville sat together, and Tom took up the last seat. A red headed boy came over to them .

"Hey – can I sit here?" he asked, and Hermione looked up

"Of course" she said, looking eager for more friends. Harry probably should have warned them about what happened they people tried to occupy the same space as his imaginary friend.

"Thanks. I'm Ron by the way, Ron Weasley" Ron tried to sit down, then yelped, his robes smoking

"Bloody hell – what you do to the boat? My brothers said they're impossible to prank" He didn't sound angry as he pulled his robes around to check for damage. There wasn't any – just smoke.

"It wasn't us" Hermione said, sounding rather disapproving. Ron frowned.

"Maybe it was the twins – damn. I still haven't got them back for that nasty one over the summer. Turned my hair green and kept saying I was going to end up in Slytherin"

"Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself "There's a spare space in the boat over there"

The red head paused, then after another unsuccessful attempt as sitting down, moved over to sit next to Malfoy. Both boys looked thoroughly sickened at being in each other's company.

"Right then – FORWARD!"

And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.

"Heads down!" yelled Hagrid as the first boats reached the cliff; they all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy which hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle until they reached a kind of underground harbour, where they clambered out on to rocks and pebbles.

When the boats were all empty, the first years clambered up a passageway in the rock after Hagrid's lamp, coming out at last on to smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle. They walled up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, oak front door.

"Everyone here?"

Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.

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	8. The Sorting Hat

**Sorry it's been so long since the last update - but to make up for it, this is the longest chapter yet! Now for the important sorting - and I now now everyone won't be happy with what house Harry is put in, but his house was chosen from the moment I came up with the idea (and if anyone wants my reasoning, you can read it in the bottom notes.**

 **Anyway - hope you enjoy**

 **Please Review**

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The door swung open at once, and behind it stood a tall, familiar woman in emerald green robes.

"The firs'-years Professor McGonagall" said Hagrid

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here"

She pulled the door wide. The Entrance Hall was so big you could have fitted the whole of the Dursley's house in it. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches like the ones at Gringotts, the ceiling was too high to make out and a magnificent marble staircase facing them led to the upper floors.

The followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. Well, all the real people did – Tom had gone over to investigate a suit of armour at the other end of the hall that was turning its head to follow the congregation of first years as they walked. Harry could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right but Professor McGonagall showed the first-years into a small empty chamber off the hall. They crowded in, standing rather closer together than they would usually have done, peering about nervously. Harry turned his head to smile at Hermione, then further to check that his imaginary friend had actually followed him inside. He had, and was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, pretending to be bored

"Welcome to Hogwarts" said Professor McGonagall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory and spend free time in your house common room.

'The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn you house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.

'The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting.' Her eyes lingered for a moment on Neville's cloak, which was fastened under his left ear, and on the red haired boy's smudged nose. Harry nervously tried to flatten his hair.

'I will return when we are ready for you,' said Professor McGonagall. 'Please wait quietly.

She left the chamber and Harry turned to Hermione nervously "Did you manage to find out how they sorted us into houses? The copy I have of _Hogwarts; a History_ said it was a school secret, and only versions in the school library explained the process"

Hermione looked as worried as he did, and shook her head. They both turned to Neville, who shrugged "Gran wouldn't tell me – said it was tradition. Not that some families stick to those traditions" He looked pointedly at Malfoy, who unlike the rest of the students, looked perfectly calm.

"It's some sort of test, I think" the Ron said, appearing from behind them "Fred said it hurt a lot but I think he was joking"

Tom snorted _"None of you know any magic – why would it be a test? Not to mention, it is in front of the whole school, before any evening meal with all the new first years? It would have be a very short test to be practical"_

Harry felt a little reassured by that, before being distracted by several people around him screaming. He turned to look in their direction.

"What the -?"

He gasped. So did the people around him. About twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to each other and hardly glancing at the first-years. They seemed to be arguing. The Fat Friar (or some other ghost that looked like a fat little monk) was saying "Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance – "

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really a ghost – I say, what are you all doing here?"

A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly noticed the first-years.

Nobody said anything, and Harry was trying to remember the list of ghouls and spectres he'd read in _Hogwarts; A History_.

" _Sir Nicholas de Mimsy Porpington"_ Tom said, answering Harry's unasked question. He was looking at the ghosts with fascination _"I wonder what their 'unfinished business' was?"_

"New students" said the Fat Friar, smiling around at them "About to be sorted, I suppose?"

A few people nodded mutely.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" said the Friar "My old house, you know"

"Move along now" Said a sharp voice. Professor McGonagall had returned. One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall.

"Now, form a line" Professor McGonagall told the first years "And follow me"

Feeling oddly as though his legs had turned to lead, Harry followed Hermione into the line, with Neville behind him. Tom was shaking his head, looking vaguely amused at the way Harry was taking deep breaths, the way they'd showed him in Jujitsu.

" _They're not going to execute you"_ he said, but Harry couldn't glare at him as they were suddenly moving, walking out of the chamber, back across the hall and through a pair of double door into the Great Hall.

Harry had read descriptions of this huge hall, and seen photographs of the various details, but they paled in comparison to the real thing. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles which were floating in mid-air over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led the first years up here, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there and among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver. Mainly to avoid all the staring eyes, Harry looked upward and saw the velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. He heard Hermione whisper, "It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in _Hogwarts; A History_ ". He'd read that as well, but even knowing, it was hard to believe there was a ceiling there at all, and that the Great Hall didn't simply open on to the heavens.

Harry quickly looked down again as Professor McGonagall silently placed a four legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool she put a pointed wizard's hat. This hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty. Aunt Petunia wouldn't have let it into the house.

"Maybe we have to pull a rabbit out of it" he mumbled, for Tom more than anything. He looked to his left. He looked to his right. Where was he? He looked behind him, trying not to be too conspicuous, only to find his imaginary friend standing next to one of the Professors. He was peering intently at the man's purple turban with a confused look on his face, reaching over to touch it with one finger. Tom's form seemed to flicker for a moment and Harry's scar burned. He closed his eyes from the pain, and when he opened them again, Tom was back in front of him

" _Are you ok?"_ he asked, looking worried and Harry nodded.

' _Oh you may not think me pretty,'_

Harry turned sharply in the direction of the voice. A rip near the brim of the hat had opened wide, like a mouth – and the hat had begun to sing.

' _But don't judge on what you see,_ _  
I'll eat myself if you can find_ _  
A smarter hat than me'_

He looked at the rest of the students – no one else seemed shocked by this behaviour. Instead they seemed rather bored, the only people really listening being the table with blue robes

' _You can keep your bowlers black,_ _  
Your top hats sleek and tall,_ _  
For I'm the_ _Hogwarts_ _Sorting Hat_ _  
And I can cap them all.  
There's nothing hidden in your head_ _  
The Sorting Hat can't see,_ _  
So try me on and I will tell you_ _  
Where you ought to be._

You might belong in

 _Gryffindor_ _,_ _  
Where dwell the brave at heart,_ _  
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry_ _  
Set_ _Gryffindor_ _s apart;_ _  
You might belong in_ _Hufflepuff_ _,_ _  
Where they are just and loyal,_ _  
Those patient_ _Hufflepuff_ _s are true_ _  
And unafraid of toil;_ _  
Or yet in wise old_ _Ravenclaw_ _,_ _  
if you've a ready mind,_ _  
Where those of wit and learning,_ _  
Will always find their kind;_ _  
Or perhaps in_ _Slytherin_ _  
You'll make your real friends,_ _  
Those cunning folks use any means_ _  
To achieve their ends._

So put me on! Don't be afraid!

 _And don't get in a flap!_ _  
You're in safe hands (though I have none)_ _  
For I'm a Thinking Cap!_

The whole hall burst into applause, the Gryffindors creating quite a ruckus with the Weasley twins whooping and stamping their feet. The hat bowed to each of the four houses, then became quite still again.

"So we've just got to try on a hat!" Ron whispered to Neville "I'll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll"

Neville smiled weakly, but didn't really look any better than Harry was feeling. Yes, trying on a hat was better than having to do a spell, or wrestle a troll, but he did wish they could have tried it on without everyone watching. The hat seemed to be asking for rather a lot; Harry didn't feel brave, or quick-witted or any of it. All of those attributes were Tom's. Now, if the hat had mentioned a house for people who felt a bit queasy, that would have been the one for him.

Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted" she said "Abbot, Hannah"

The blond girl with pigtails from the train stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. A moment's pause –

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat

The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to join the Hufflepuff table. Harry saw the ghost of the Fat Friar waving at her.

"Bones, Susan" It was the red-haired girl from the train, this time.

"HUFFLEPUFF" shouted the hat again, and Susan scuttled off to sit next to Hannah.

"Boot, Terry!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

The table, second from the left clapped this time; several Ravenclaws stood up to shake hands with Terry as he joined them. 'Brown, Lavender' was the first Gryffindor, and the table on the far left exploded with cheers; Harry could see the twins catcalling.

Harry watched more people take to the stool. He was definitely beginning to feel sick now. He remembered back in primary school, when Dudley was still alive – being picked last, not because he wasn't good, but because no one wanted Dudley to think they liked him.

"Granger, Hermione"

Harry gave the girl a discrete thumbs up, before she ran to the stool and jammed the hat on her head. It was deliberating for a long while, and Harry was struck with a horrible thought. What if he wasn't chosen at all? What if he just sat there with the hat over his eyes for ages, until Professor McGonagall jerked it off his head and said there had obviously been a mistake and he'd better get back on the train.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Hermione jumped off the stool, and looking very pleased, hurried over to the Gryffindor table to sit next to another Weasley brother.

Neville was soon after, and the hat took even longer on him that it did on Hermione. When it finally shouted "GRYFFINDOR!", Neville ran off still wearing it and had to jog back amid gales of laughter to give it to 'MacDougal, Morag' ("RAVENCLAW!").

Malfoy swaggered forward when his name was called and got his wish at once; the hat had barely touched his head when it screamed "SLYTHERIN!"

Malfoy went to join his friends Crabbe and Goyle, looking pleased with himself, whilst Tracey Davis shuffled up the table to avoid sitting next to the trio, turning to 'Greengrass, Daphne' for conversation instead. There weren't many people left now.

" _For Merlin's sake Harry – calm down"_ Tom scolded, as Harry watched 'Patil, Padma' be sorted into 'RAVENCLAW!' _"We will aim for Slytherin of course – the best connections are found in that house. But it is no great loss if we find ourselves in Ravenclaw or Gryffindor. They both have admirable attributes, and we will make it work for us"_

"Potter, Harry"

Harry stood frozen for a moment, until Tom put a hand on his shoulder. Energy buzzed through him at the burning hot pressure. _"That's you – idiot. Let's go"_

Tom kept the contact as they walked towards the stool, his presence somehow seeming to muffle the whispers that had broken out like little hissing fires all over the hall. The last thing Harry saw before the hat dropped over his eyes was the hall full of people craning to get a good look at him. Next second he was looking at the black inside of the hat. He waited, Tom's hand still hot on his shoulder.

"Hmm" said a small voice in his ear "Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. And a good mind – well cultivated. You have the potential to do great things, Mr Potter"

" _It's looking inside your head"_ Tom said, hand tightening on Harry's shoulder. He sounded intrigued, and a little insulted, like that was his domain and no one else had any rights there.

"Ah yes - you have a hitchhiker, Mr Potter. It is good to see you again, young Tom"

"Again?" Harry asked, "Wait? You can see him?"

"Of course, and I can see that your friend's ambition for Slytherin would be perfect for him. But not for you. You have ambition, yes, and a thirst to prove yourself. But not for your own gain. You have a very loyal friend there, Mr Tom"

" _I am an extension of Harry, therefore if I am suited to Slytherin, so is he"_ Tom said, but he sounded... off, somehow. Perhaps that was because Harry had never heard him speak to another before.

"So it would seem, but I have been sorting students for 1000 years, and I believe young Harry's desires would best be suited for HUFFLEPUFF!"

Harry heard the hat shout the last word to the whole Hall. He took off the hat and walked shakily towards the Hufflepuff table, not looking at Tom. The hand had slipped off his shoulder the moment his house had been called, and he was a little nervous at his best friend's response. In fact, he was so engrossed in his thoughts, he hardly noticed that he was getting the biggest cheers yet, nor that the Weasley twins were sobbing in an exaggerated fashion whilst wailing 'We've not got Potter!'.

He hurried over and sat opposite to Susan and Hannah. They smiled at him "Congratulations Harry – don't think anyone expected you to come here"

"No" Harry agreed, watching as 'Turpin, Lisa' was sorted into Ravenclaw, Ron into Gryffindor and 'Zabini, Blaise' into Slytherin. Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the Sorting Hat away. Harry looked down at his empty gold plate. He had only just realised how hungry he was. The Pumpkin Pasties he'd bought on the train seemed ages ago now.

He looked up to the high table, where Tom was one more looking at the Professor in the purple turban. He tore his eyes away from the sight (which was peculiar in its... wrongness), before focussing his gaze on the man in the centre of the table. With his long silver hair, and beard tucked into his belt, it was obvious that this was Albus Dumbledore sitting on the large golden chair. He got to his feet. He was beaming at the students, his arms opened wide as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there.

"Welcome!" he said "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts. Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are; Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you"

He sat back down. Everybody clapped and cheered. Harry didn't know whether to laugh or not. Susan was grinning at him

"He's a bit barmy. A complete genius of course, but a little mad. Auntie always said that's why he gets away with so much" she said "You going to eat something?"

Harry's mouth fell open. The dishes in front of him where now piled with food. He had never seen so many things he liked to eat on one table; roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamp chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, chips, Yorkshire Puddings, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup and, for some strange reason, mint humbugs.

The Dursleys had never exactly starved Harry, well, not since Dudley died, but he'd never been able to eat as much as he liked. Plus, there was the understanding that if he missed dinner even by a minute, he wasn't allowed to eat anything until the next meal came around, and the Dursley's liked to change meal times without informing him. Harry piled his plate with a little bit of everything except the humbugs and began to eat. It was all delicious.

"Ah – new Hufflepuffs. Welcome to the house" the Fat Friar said, floating over to the seats. One of the boys, Justin Finch-Fletchlely, shuddered as the ghost's robes travelled through him "Enjoying the feast so far?"

"It's lovely" Hannah said politely, the only one who didn't have their mouth too full to respond.

"Splendid" There was a faint crashing sound, and the Friar sighed wearily "I do apologise. I am on Poltergeist duty this evening, and I must see what has happened. I'm sure the prefects will introduce the house to you properly later"

With that, he floated down the table, leaving the students to their meals. When everyone had eaten as much as they could, the remains of the food faded from the plates, leaving them sparkling clean as before. A moment later the puddings appeared. Blocks of ice-cream in every flavour you could think of, apple pies, treacle tarts, chocolate eclairs and jam doughnuts, trifles, strawberries, jelly, rice pudding...

As Harry helped himself to a treacle tart, the talk turned to families as Justin said "I almost didn't come to Hogwarts – I had a place at Eton you see, and my father was worried that I wouldn't get as good a quality education at Hogwarts. Of course, once everything had been explained at the orientation, he was reassured but I believe he is looking into tutors so I can keep up with the normal subjects during the holidays. What about the rest of you?"

Ernest MacMillan, a blond haired boy looked up and said "I'm a pureblood - can be traced nine generations back. Not that it matters of course" he added, a little sheepishly "Mum and dad always believed that muggleborns should be treated the same as the rest of us"

"Not enough to fight in the war" Susan added sharply, and Ernest's face crumpled a little before turning into a scowl. An older boy walked over. He was a little on the chubby side, with brown hair and a kind face

"Hi – I'm Gabriel Truman – one of your fifth year prefect" He said, squishing in between Harry and Megan Jones "Welcome to Hufflepuff. I'll be taking you down to the common room after the start-of-term speeches. Just thought I'd pop over to introduce myself. Anyway – you have any questions, you can direct them at me. Well – you can direct them to anyone in the house really, but I'm the official port-of-call"

Harry did have one question "Um... who is that Professor up there? The one in the purple turban?"

Tom was still up there, sat crossed legged on the floor behind the man, staring intently at the back of his head as though he wanted to bore a hole in it.

"That? Oh – that's our new defence Professor. We get a new one every year" he said "Hope this one is better than last years. The one next to him is Professor Snape, the potions teacher. He wants the Defence job more than anything, and he's head of Slytherin so he favours them something chronic. Then there Professor Flitwick – he does charms, but he's a wicked dueller. If you can persuade him to give you some tips – well, send them my way. I want to go professional when I leave here. Professor Sprout is our Head of House and she'll be talking to you when we head back to the common room. She's the Herbology professor. Professor McGonagall is head of Gryffindor and teaches Transfiguration. Um... then there's Professor Binn's for History of Magic, Professor Sinestra for astronomy, Professor Hooch for Flying and... yep that's all the ones you need to know for first year"

He had all of the first-years staring at him intently by the time he had finished, as well as the rest of the hall. The puddings had disappeared over the course of his speech and Professor Dumbledore was looking at the boy with a kindly smile on his face "That was a good introduction Mr Truman, and I'm sure the other prefects would do well to follow in your footsteps"

Gabriel blushed bright red, though whether it was from the praise or sheer embarrassment, Harry couldn't tell.

"But I'm afraid I must move onto less interesting subjects than our esteemed faculty – I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First-years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well"

Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley twins.

"I have also been asked by Mr Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.

Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.

And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to anyone who does not wish to die a very painful death"

Harry laughed, but he was one of the few who did.

"He's not serious?" he muttered to Gabriel, who nodded.

"He must be" the boy said, frowning at the high table "But usually he tells us why we're not allowed to go somewhere. Like... the forbidden forest has a number of dangerous creatures in, or last year one of the broom cupboards got a bad doxy infestation that took most of the year to deal with. He didn't tell the Prefects anything though"

" _Interesting"_ Tom said, and Harry jumped, not having realised the boy had torn himself away from Professor Quirrel's fascinating turban. Gabriel frowned at him

"You alright?"

"Yeah – fine" Harry reassured quickly

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore. Harry noticed that the other teacher's smiles had become rather fixed

Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick, as if he was trying to get a fly off the end and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twisted itself snake-like into words.

"Everyone pick their favourite tune" said Dumbledore "And off we go!"

And the school bellowed;

 _[school song]_

Everybody finished the song at different times. At last, only the Weasley twins were left singing along to a very slow funeral march. Dumbledore conducted their last few lines with his wand and when they had finished, he was one of those who clapped the loudest.

"Ah, music" he said, wiping his eyes "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

There was a loud scraping sound as the whole school started standing up and Gabriel grinned "Right then, you lot. This way"

The Hufflepuff first years followed Gabriel through the chattering crows, out of the Great Hall and down a wide corridor. Harry's legs were like lead again, but only because he was so tired and full of food. The portraits along the corridors whispered and pointed as they passed, and they finally stopped next to a portrait of a fruit bowl. Tom was beside him again, and Harry wanted to ask how he felt about the sorting.

"Right then – we don't have a password like the other houses. You just need to tap the bricks with your wand, in the right order. Be careful to get it right though, or you'll have vinegar tipped on you. And if you want friends from other houses over, make sure you're in the common room when they give the password, because if they get it right, they'll have to give your name and if you're not inside... well" He shrugged, then mimicked getting covered in liquid "So – watch carefully"

He tapped about 5 bricks in order, and just like at Diagon Alley, the wall melted away to reveal a staircase. They walked down it into a large room, filled with squashy armchairs. It was warm and Professor Sprout was waiting for them.

"Hello" she said, smiling warmly "Welcome to Hufflepuff. I'm Professor Sprout, your Head of House as Mr Truman so eloquently said earlier. My office is in the Greenhouses, but if you need to talk to me after 5:30, when the front doors are shut, then you can reach me either through the Prefects, or by knocking on that door over there"

She pointed to a small door in the corner of the room "Even if you don't have any problems, I'll be having a meeting with you in the next few weeks, just to make sure you're settling in ok. Now – you've met your fifth year prefect – he's the one who's responsible for you, so don't worry if you don't remember all of this. I know there's a lot to take in, and Mr Truman has a map, timetable and a list of important things to remember to give you tomorrow morning. The most important thing to remember here though, is that we are the house of the loyal and hardworking. People seem to think that means that we're 'a load of old duffers'" she appeared to be imitating someone there "But we aren't. We have very high grades, but more importantly than that, I am proud of how all my students support each other, and everyone else in the school.

We don't approve of rivalries – you may have as many friends in the other houses as you like, and you are welcome to bring them to the common room as long as it is before curfew and there is a prefect here to supervise. We also don't judge people by what their families did in the war. A lot of people lost a lot of a friends and family during that time, and I know I can trust you to do the house proud by supporting your fellow students, rather than judging them by their parents. I have also been lead to believe that there is a very successful study session once a week for History of Magic and Defence against the Dark Arts, but I'm sure Mr Truman will inform you of that tomorrow morning. For now though, I'll let you get some rest, and I will see you soon"

Harry smiled as he watched the dumpy witch head towards the knee-high door to her office. The frame grew as she opened it, before returning to its normal size as she stepped through, leaving just the first years in the common room.

"She was really nice" Susan commented as the door settled, and the rest of the first-years nodded in agreement

"Right then kiddos – this way for the dorms. If you have a member of the opposite sex in your room, the door will not close. All dorms are along this corridor, boys on the left, girls on the right. You'll stay in the same rooms right up until seventh year, when you'll get private dorms to study for your NEWTs"

He stopped about midway down the corridor "Girls through that door, boys through that one. Tap it once with your wand to lock it, though it won't work against your dorm mates, prefects or teachers. Now off to bed, you lot. You have a busy day tomorrow"

The boys all piled into their room. There were five four-posters hung with gold velvet curtains, with wooden beside cabinets adjacent to every bed. Their trunks had already been brought up, and Harry's garnered a fair bit of attention, though they were all too tired to give it the praise it deserved. Harry pulled on his pyjamas and fell into bed, pulling the curtain's shut around him. Tom was sat on the end, and they stared at each other in silence for a moment

"You're not angry at me, are you?" Harry finally asked, hearing the soft breathing of his dorm mates as they started to fall asleep

Tom was silent for a long moment, and Harry tensed up in dread at the answer _"I'm not angry Harry. Disappointed, yes, but not angry"_ He said that like it should make Harry feel better. It didn't. _"Anyway – like I said, all the houses have valuable attributes. We will make it work"_

"You said Gryffindor and Ravenclaw had valuable attributes" Harry reminded him, before sighing "I'm sorry I'm so..."

" _You're not useless and you're not a freak"_ Tom said suddenly, his voice hard and eyes narrowed in anger _"Hufflepuff is a fine house and listening to Professor Sprout's speech, it will be good for our purpose. We have a much broader reach here than we would do in any other house. You did well, Harry"_

Harry nodded, not sure if he believed it. Tom was shaking his head _"You're an idiot. Now go to sleep Harry. I'm not having you mess up your first day of school"_

Harry smiled a little, before curling up under the soft duvet and falling asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. If he had dreams of green light, and purple turbans that talked, then he didn't remember it when he woke up the next day.

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 **Why Harry is in Hufflepuff;**

 **Firstly, I don't think that Hufflepuff is the house of 'duffers' or the house of people who don't fit anywhere else. After all, Cedric Diggory was from Hufflepuff, and out of the whole year he was the one who was considered worthy of representing Hogwarts in the Triwizard tournament. Instead, I think it's for people who are more loyal than they are brave, studious, cunning etc.**

 **Harry in canon is very loyal to his friends, but he hasn't had an opportunity to show that before he comes to Hogwarts and sorted. That's a character trait that develops through his relationship with Ron and Hermione. My Harry has had a friend throughout his childhood, and that friend gave someone for Harry to depend on, a friend that he has become very loyal to. Beyond that, Tom has suppressed some of Harry's Gryffindor traits and made him more intelligent, and developed Harry's Slytherin traits. Despite this, those are still more Tom, than Harry and because the sorting hat disregarded Tom's presence, he decided Harry would be better off in Hufflepuff, where he could make more friends like he wanted, than in the other houses.**

 **Hope that makes sense - if not, ask! And please review!**


	9. The Potion's Master (Part 1)

**Hi all - I'm sorry for such a big delay. I've just had a load of really important exams, and this chapter was really hard to get started. I could have continued with it and made it longer, but I wanted to get something out to you all and this seemed like a good place to stop!**

 **I have one more exam left and then I'll hopefully be back to a more reasonable schedule.**

 **Also, this is horrendously underedited so when I have chance to read this at a time that isn't 2:30am, it might be replaced with a chapter of decent grammar!**

 **Please Review!**

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"So Mr Potter" Professor Sprout said, peering at him through brown, smile-lined eyes "I hadn't expected to see you so soon"

Harry grinned weakly and shrugged. He had tried pushing himself up the bed into a sitting position, but Tom had glared at him during his attempt and then sat stubbornly on his stomach when he ignored it.

"Sorry Professor" Harry said, and the woman shook her head.

"Not to worry, my dear - you didn't do anything wrong. Now, would you like to tell me what happened? In fact, why don't you tell me how your first week went?"

Harry looked at Tom quickly, who nodded with such a murderous look on his face that Harry flinched. The glare softened a little _"Go on Harry – let's see if the teachers here are any better than the ones at home"_

So Harry thought back. It had been a busy first week, but normal up until that Thursday at least.

Gabriel Truman had been waiting for them in the common room the morning after the start of term feast, handing them pieces of parchment decorated with a map so heavily annotated that it was difficult to read in some places. Following that, they received their timetables and a small booklet compiling advice from generations of Hufflepuffs, something that they themselves would contribute to in their final year, Gabriel added as he checked that everyone had a copy. He'd told them that there were a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts: wide, sweeping ones; narrow, rickety ones, some that led somewhere different on a Friday; some with a vanishing step halfway up that you had to remember to jump. He told them about doors that wouldn't open unless you asked politely, or tickled them in exactly the right place, and doors that weren't really doors at all, but solid walls just pretending. He explained about the moving staircases, and pointed out the portraits that gave the most accurate information when asking for directions. He showed them landmarks, and the best way to avoid Peeves and the best alcoves in the walls to hide in when sneaking out of the common room after hours. Harry's head was swimming with odd facts by the time he, and the rest of the first years had finally taken a seat in the Great Hall.

"Morning Harry" Susan greeted as she buttered some triangles of toast "Have you read the timetable yet? Looks like a full week – Herbology, Transfiguration and History of Magic for today. What are you looking forward to most?"

Harry was stunned to silence at first. Despite his declaration on the train about wanting to make friends, he hadn't really expected anyone to come up to him.

" _History of Magic will be interesting, if the books have anything to go by. We have a lot to learn from the past"_ Tom said, when it became clear that Harry was wasn't going to answer on his own. Harry's eyes flicked to Tom, then back to Susan and he put down his spoon full of porridge to reply.

Their conversation continued through breakfast and had apparently made him a friend, because the red-head had sat next to him when they walked to the Greenhouses for Herbology (much to Tom's displeasure – he disliked not having anywhere to sit, despite not being real). Harry had liked Herbology – he was largely responsible for the beautiful gardens that were the envy of the Dursleys' neighbours – and the Professor had been delighted by the way he'd repotted his seedlings. He'd earned 10 points for Hufflepuff, and Tom looked rather smug despite having nothing to do with it.

He'd not enjoyed transfiguration so much – it wasn't that he hadn't liked the lesson, just that he knew from the large amount of background reading Tom had forced on him that they weren't going to be changing furniture into animals for a long time. Instead they took a number of complicated notes, and Harry won Hufflepuff another 20 points by answering a question on basic safety precautions and giving a brief explanation of the simple Arithmancy equation for the power requirements of inanimate-to-inanimate transfigurations.

" _I told you it would be worth reading that book"_ Tom whispered in his ear as Harry frowned at his parchment, as though by doing so he could make the answer appear on his paper. Susan had the same look on her face _"Come on – you know this. Remember the first law of thermodynamics?"_

For the last 15 minutes of the lesson, the Professor started handing around a matchstick to each student, and told them to try turning it into a needle. By the end of the lesson, only Hermione Granger had made any difference to her match; Professor McGonagall showed the class how it had gone all silver and pointy, and gave Hermione a rare smile. Tom had sulked all the way through lunch because of that.

That was the only piece of practical work they had done that week. History of Magic was a pure-theory class that was boring as it was pointless. Charms had again been another talk on safety requirements and the flying lessons a talk on the history of the broomstick.

In fact, all of the lessons thus far were very... dare he say, normal in all but their subject matter. Which was fine – Harry had always enjoyed school. He wasn't as devoted to his lessons as Tom was, but he liked learning and was always top of the class if only because anything he didn't understand was comprehensively explained later in the evening. So on Wednesday night, as he was sitting in the Common Room with Ernie and Hannah, writing an essay on 'The Importance of Wand Movements in level 1 Charms Casting', he found himself rather content.

However, Thursday was the day that all that changed. They all came down to breakfast yawning, having been up until 1am doing astronomy, but excited for the free period they had that morning to make up for lost sleep. The tables were empty of all but few sixth and seventh years, leaving the first years without the buffer the rest of the school normally gave them. Talk was stifled as even the lowest of voices echoed through the empty hall.

Tom had sat next to Harry, looking remarkably smug as he spread out on the bench for the first time that week _"Your Miss Granger is looking rather... lonely"_ Tom pointed out, as Harry spread marmalade on his toast.

He looked over and frowned to see that Tom was right. Hermione was sat on her own, nose in a book whilst the rest of her house huddled in small, whispering groups. Every now and again he heard giggles, and she seemed to hunch down a little more.

"I didn't notice anything odd last night in astronomy," he muttered quietly to Tom, turning his head away before Hermione saw him look at her.

"What was that Harry?" Susan asked, sitting down opposite him as she looked intently at her map of the school

"Nothing" he answered distractedly, turning back to his breakfast and chewing thoughtfully. There was another round of giggling from the Gryffindor table, followed by the scraping of the bench bench and footsteps. It didn't take a genius to work out who'd left.

"I'm going to try and find the library again" he said, grabbing his book bag "I'll see you all in class, ok?"

He left before anyone could answer

" _Going to be a knight in shining armour?"_ Tom asked mockingly as he spotted bushy hair down the corridor. He hurried after her and was surprised when she stopped suddenly and swirled around

"Go away Ronald – I said I'm sorry so could you pl... oh. Harry" She paused, going bright red "Sorry... I just..."

"Thought I was someone else?" Harry finished, smiling at her "Not Ron, I'm afraid... any particular reason they're avoiding you?"

Hermione shrugged but made no move to answer, instead switching the topic to the previous evening astronomy lesson, and how interesting it was that the wizarding world didn't seem to know about the muggle's latest strides in that area.

Their conversation had moved to the anticipation of their first DADA lesson when the staircase decided to move, sending them far away from their chosen destination (which by unspoken agreement had been the first floor library). Conversation stopped and they looked over the edge of the bannister nervously as the stone attached itself to the side of a corridor with a grinding sound.

Harry shrugged "I guess we're getting off here then"

"I suppose" Hermione said, walking to the landing "But where is here?"

Harry followed her, pulling his map from his pocket. It wasn't really that helpful though as they appeared to have arrived into the single corridor in Hogwarts that wasn't covered in paintings.

"Looks like we're on the... 6th floor?" Hermione said, and Harry saw that she was leaning over the bannister again. He shook his head

"Our prefect says you can't work it out that way. Something about the castle playing pranks. The best way is to either count the landings as you go up or to find the landmark painting for each floor, which should be somewhere by the stairs"

" _Perhaps it's further up the corridor"_ Tom said, before disappearing to have a look

"Our prefects never told us anything like that" Hermione said, looking scandalised "And neither did Hogwarts, a History"

"Your prefects didn't give you a map either" Harry said, waving the parchment at her. She stared at it for a moment, then her eyes narrowed

"Gimme" she said, snatching for it. Harry laughed and passed it over willingly as he started rifling through his 'Hufflepuff Handbook' for what to do

 _Tip 5. If you get lost, don't just start walking. Hogwarts doesn't follow Euclidean geometry and it's quite easy to keep wandering forever unless you have a destination in mind. Once you start off in the right direction though, Hogwarts is usually eager to help you out – just keep your mind on where you want to go_

Harry thought about that for a moment "Oh..." he breathed, turning to Hermione to tell her of his revelation. He was interrupted before he could say anything.

" _Harry – come and see this"_

"Maybe we should look down the corridor, see if it's been moved there" Harry said, hurrying down the abandoned corridor in search of his friend, leaving Hermione to run and catch up. They found themselves in front of a wooden door

Harry reached for the handle, even as Tom said _"It's locked"_ at the same time as Hermione said "Don't"

"Can't get in anyway" Harry said, looking at the door curiously "Unless..." He reached for his wand, and carefully traced the movements he'd memorised from the _Standard Book of Spells_ "Alohomora"

The door stared at him, completely unmoving and certainly not opening. Tom snorted _"Very impressive"_

"You said it right" Hermione said, looking at Harry's wand with the same enthusiasm she had when talking about potions on the train "And the wand movements looked correct. I mean... I've only tried it myself once..." She trailed off as she heard a crashing noise, and her eyes widened "Peeves"

Harry frowned at her as she suddenly pushed him aside, her own wand out. Her spell worked and the door creaked open. She pulled him inside and slammed it shut

"He likes pranking Gryffindors" she explained as she put her wand away "Especially if they're on their own. Something to do with the Weasley twins"

Harry wasn't listening because he was looking straight into the eyes of a monstrous dog, a dog which filled the whole space between ceiling and floor. It had three head. Three pairs of rolling, mad eyes; three noses, twitching and quivering in their direction; three drooling mouths, saliva handing in slippery ropes from yellowish fangs.

It was standing quite still, all six eyes staring at them and Harry knew with absolute certainty that the only reason they weren't dead was that they'd caught it by surprise, but it was quickly getting over that. There was no mistaking what those thunderous growls meant

" _Beautiful"_ Tom whispered, eyes wide with awe. Harry groped for the door handle desperately, deciding that Peeves wasn't all that bad as he fell through into the corridor. They slammed the door shut behind them and ran and ran back to the landing and onto the staircase, which obligingly moved them to another floor.

"Well..." Harry said, as he leaned against the painting of 'The Rainbow Flowers of Bainbridge House' "At least we know why the third floor is forbidden"

Hermione, who'd been sat on the bottom step in silent terror, suddenly looked up at him "The third floor?" she asked, voice slightly hysterical and face pale

Harry looked a little sheepish at that "Yeah..."

"How long did you know?" she asked him, voice moving from scared to angry

"Um... just before we went exploring" he answered honestly, even as Tom whispered a plausible lie in his ear. He just had a feeling Hermione would see through it if he even tried "I realised... Hogwarts likes taking students where they need to go, and we were talking about DADA and that's always been hosted on the third floor until this year, so that's where it took us. And I think I heard somewhere that off limit floors have their portraits moved to encourage students away..."

"So you decided to go exploring down the forbidden corridor? Without telling me that's where we were? Without thinking precisely why it was forbidden? Without considering how dangerous it could be? This is magic Harry – that was a Cerberus. We could have died!"

"I'm sorry – I didn't know what would happen" Harry replied

"Exactly!" She stood up, throwing her hands into the air, before pausing and taking a deep breath "Well – I hope you're pleased with yourself. Now I'm going to head over to DADA before you end up getting us killed - or worse, expelled"

And with that, she turned started walking down the stair case towards the first floor, leaving Harry with Tom who was smirking

" _Well – that was interesting"_ he said, leaning against the wall and looking at his nails.

"What? The fact you almost lead us to our deaths? Or the fact that Hermione blames me for it?"

" _Oh Harry – don't you ever see anything?"_ Tom asked, shaking his head _"The Cerberus on the third floor? It was standing on a trapdoor - "_

"Was it now? I was a bit too busy staring at its three heads to notice that" Harry replied sarcastically. Tom ignored him

"W _hich means that it's guarding something. Something valuable. Something I bet had to be retrieved from a specialised vault at Gringotts"_

Harry raised an eyebrow, wondering where Tom was going with this. He just smirked wider _"Well – if they've gone to this much trouble to guard it under some of the most powerful wards in Britain, under the nose of one of the most powerful light wizards of our age... that sounds like something worth having? Don't you think?"_

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 **Please Review!**


	10. The Potion's Master (Part 2)

**I'm so sorry this took so long to get out - I came home from Uni for the holidays and have been working full time, and it's surprisingly hard to find time to write with family looking over your shoulder every time you get the laptop out (I know it's not much of an excuse, but it's all I have). Anyway, thank you for putting up with me. I'll try and get the next chapter up soon for you all**

 **Anyway - please enjoy Harry's Potion's and DADA lessons**

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Harry had argued with Tom all the way down to the temporary classroom set aside for Defence Against the Dark Arts. He was almost the first there, beaten only by Hermione who'd taken her customary space at the front of the class. He almost went to sit by her, but the glare she sent in his direction sent him further back

" _You know it makes sense Harry"_ Tom wheedled as they took a seat in the third row _"Obviously we can't do it yet – we have a lot more training to do. But we're in no rush – they won't be able to move it until at least Christmas. Probably not even until summer. A Cerberus is hardly a simple thing to move about"_

Harry groaned softly, before replying "I just want to not get expelled, Tom"

Tom sounded exasperated _"And that is why you have me – I know what you should really want. Honestly Harry – have I ever steered you wrong before?"_

For a moment, Harry was tempted to say yes. But then they'd end up arguing about Dudley's birthday again, and Tom would inevitably win, making it all an exercise in futility. So instead he sighed "No... you haven't"

He was going to say more but he heard the door open, and his fellow Hufflepuff's coming over to join him

" _You won't regret this Harry – just you wait. We'll pull it off perfectly"_

"Harry – where did you get to? We looked in the Library for you" Ernie's question was echoed silently by other curious eyes.

"Got a bit lost, then decided to just go straight to Defence Against the Dark Arts"

They were interrupted from further conversation by the entrance of Professor Quirrell. The teacher looked very pale, and younger than one would expect of a faculty member at such a prestigious institution, perhaps only in his mid-twenties. He had a twitchy right eye, a thin nose and if he had any hair, it was covered by a deep purple turban.

Hunching over, the man made his way to the front of the class and towards the blackboard to write his name, though his hands were shaking so much that he dropped the chalk before he even managed to get past the 'f'. The class laughed, and pale skin tinged pink. Tom was frowning, though whether it was at the incompetence of the teacher or the disrespect of the class was anyone's guess.

Finally, his name written out, he stood in the centre of the classroom and removed his wand.

"Sed locus non dictur esse secundum quid in aliis exspectationes" he said, waving his wand in the most complicated pattern that Harry had ever seen. Runes sparked gold along the upper borders of each wall, activating with a loud popping sound that made some students shout out in panic, before disappearing into the stone.

"Was that Dark Magic I just performed?" Professor Quirrell said, standing up straighter. The twitching stopped, and the class shut up "Or just a simple spell to make runes light up? How can you tell? As newcomers to the wizarding world, how can you sense that a dark spell has been performed, or that you are in the presence of a dark creature or artefact?"

He paused for a moment, letting the tension in the room increase "And why would you need to know? Anyone who has read some of the class textbook could tell you that dark magic is illegal, and is punishable by anything from a hefty fine, all the way to a dementor's kiss. And even if you haven't, we are in a time of peace thanks to Mr Potter here. In fact, I would go as far as to say that the majority of you do not expect to ever be in the presence of dark magic, nor need to defend yourself from the Arts I will be describing. Those majority of you are wrong"

He paused on that note, heading back to his desk to pick up a piece of parchment. He looked at it for a moment, before saying "Weasley - what is the definition of dark magic?"

The red head looked up, flushing red and swallowing "Dad says... Dad says Dark Magic is magic that hurts people, or makes them do things they don't want to do"

Quirrell looked at him for a long moment and nodded "As good a definition as any. Many Dark Arts spells cause a great deal of harm. It is said that the number of spells dedicated to torture outnumber those for healing more than 20:1, and that some of them are... very creative. But that's more detail than your little ears need to worry about. However Mr Weasley – does your mother use the cutting charm?"

Ron nodded "To cut vegetables and stuff, yeah?"

"And you wouldn't call that a Dark Spell, would you?"

"Of course not! Mum would never use the Dark Arts"

"Yet a Cutting Charm applied to the throat would kill almost as certainly as... let's say the Blood Boiling Curse?"

Ron looked rather green at this, but dutifully nodded "I suppose... but Mum would never use it like that"

"Nor would most people, Mr Weasley. So what separates the Cutting Charm and the Blood Boiling Curse?"

There was an echoing silence before Hermione said "One is designed specifically to cause harm"

"Very good Miss Granger. 5 points to Gryffindor to you, and another 5 to Mr Weasley. So what we could say is that Dark Arts refer to subsets of magic specifically designed to cause harm to others? But surely that brings up problems of its own – can anyone think of any?"

"There are jinxes that are just made to cause harm to people" Zacharias Smith said "Like... like the Bat Bogey Hex, and the Boil Growing hex. But those aren't dark arts spell"

"Yeah - but they're just kids things. They don't really hurt people, just annoy them. My brothers use them all the time when designing pranks" Ron pointed out "And mum can heal them in a second"

"So perhaps a better definition of the Dark Arts could be spells designed specifically to cause severe or irreversible harm to the victim" Professor Quirrell summarised "Very good – 5 points to Hufflepuff. Any others? No? Does anyone know why someone would invent something like the Blood Boiling Curse?

"For vengeance?" an Indian girl said

"Possibly – certainly some curses were created for that reason, Miss Patil. However, the Blood Boiling Curse was created for a much more benign purpose. It was created by a slightly eccentric French wizard in the early 17th Century as a novel means of cooking meat, but was soon discovered that it made a very effective method of killing people"

The wizard paused, yet no one said a word. The class were transfixed, if not a little green at the thought of having one's blood boiled.

"So what about spells that have been repurposed? Are they dark by nature? Or just in context? Is it possible for magic to be good or bad? Or is it just the wizard who yields it?" There was another pause "I have spent many years studying the rare and endemic magics of the continent, Asia, Africa. I have seen tribes that used highly involved rituals, considered dark by our ministry's standards, to bring an early end to the dry season when it threatened their lives. I've seen maternal magic in Asia that when activated, kills whoever sought to hurt their children at the cost of the mother's life. There is even magic that can turn back the very hands of time herself. But one thing I have found, is that the common definition for the 'Dark Arts' is at the very least flawed, and even outright wrong. There is only power, and those too weak to seek it, and too weak to yield it wisely"

"So, instead I will just teach you to defend yourself from all magic, by any means necessary. From the simple cutting curse to ancient rituals, from artefacts to creatures. And I shall teach you to defend yourself from the witches and wizards who may be yielding them, because like I said, magic is just the power. The real danger comes from the person yielding it"

Silence echoed through the classroom as Professor Quirrell finished his speech, and Tom was clapping, staring at the teacher enraptured. Harry almost followed suit. In fact, most of the class looked completely fascinated , if not a little nervous, taking out their quills and starting to write down the curriculum that Professor Quirrell was describing, which started off in the first term with identifying and countering different dangerous artefacts and creatures, then focussing on wizards in the second and third one. There was silence in the classroom as the Professor lectured, right up until they were dismissed.

"That was brilliant" Harry enthused, walking out of the classroom with Susan and Ernie. Ernie was nodding, though Susan was looking a little less supportive

"He's going to be a good teacher, I think" she said, before adding "But my Auntie wouldn't let me know any dark curses because she said I was too young. I don't think the Professor should have taught us anything of that level yet"

"You're going to complain?" Harry asked, very aware of how Tom was glaring at the young witch

"No! No – I didn't say that" Susan quickly said "I mean – Hogwarts can't hold a DADA professor for longer than a year. This could be our only chance to have someone teaching us who knows what he's on about"

She looked like she wanted to say something else, but they had reached the Great Hall for lunch and the conversation naturally changed to what was on offer that day, and whether Potions was to be as much of a torment as was promised by the upper years.

The potions lessons took place down in one of the dungeons. It was colder there than up in the main castle and would have been quite creepy enough without the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls.

Snape, like their other teachers, started the class by taking the register, and like a great number of them, he paused at Harry's name.

"Ah yes" he said softly, "Harry Potter. Our new – _celebrity_ "

The whole class was silent, the eyes of the room turning to the boy who was turning red. He truly hated being famous. Professor Snape finished calling the names and looked up at the class. His eyes were cold and empty, like the pitch black subway tunnel that Harry had to traverse whenever Dudley had fancied a 'midnight snack' and Aunt Petunia had run out of chocolate.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making" the Professor began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught ever word – like Professor McGonagall, and Professor Quirrell, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate powder of liquids that creep through the human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory and even stopper death – if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach.

More silence followed this little speech as Snape spun on his heel to walk towards the blackboard. He paused halfway, then without turning around said sharply "Potter! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood"

Harry floundered for a second, before asking timidly "The Draught of Living Death?"

The potion's master turned back around to face him. Instead of looking pleased by his answer (which was correct according to the smile on Tom's face), he instead looked angry. Indeed, his tone was clipped when he asked the next question "Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Harry's answer was surer this time – he'd read that in a small footnote on the train that morning "The stomach of a goat, sir. It's a stone that can save you from a number of different poisons"

The look on Snape's face was getting sourer, and Harry got the distinct impression that Snape didn't like him very much. Tom thought so too, because against his usual rules, he added a little titbit of his own to the answer.

"It is particularly effective against poisons created using a classic Lowry base"

"And what, is a Lowry base, Mr Potter?" the teacher asked, stalking over to Harry's desk, resting both hands on it to loom over the student. Harry gulped, looking up at the pale skinned man.

"A Lowry base is... an alkali base made from... Armadillo bile, honeywater and valerian root with some innately magical ingredient..." Black eyes stared into his own and he swallowed. He'd been wrong. Snape didn't dislike Harry – he hated him. Harry thought he was even starting to get a headache from the intensity of the man's stare "The added magical ingredient is dependent on the type of potion... poisonous ingredients are added to prepare the base to produce a..."

Tom stopped in his explanation, forcing Harry to do so as well. Silence seemed to echo around the classroom for a second " _He's in your head, Harry!_ "

Tom moved between the teacher and student, fists clenched and eyes murderous as he reached out to the Professor and in a move Harry couldn't see, pushed the man away. Harry felt the headache disappear, only to be replaced by a bone deep ache in the rest of him. Hs vision greyed out, and he couldn't see Tom anymore. The last thing he heard as his head smacked against the potion's classroom's floor, was Susan shouting his name.

* * *

Professor Sprout was a very good listener, Harry thought as he related his week to her, albeit without details of the DADA lesson, or the encounter with the three headed dog on the third floor. Whilst her body tensed when Harry told her about Snape trying to read his thoughts, and his magic lashing out accidentally, she didn't say anything until she was sure Harry had finished

"Well, that was certainly illuminating Mr Potter" she finally said "And does collaborate with what I've heard from your classmates. They also suggested that the Professor was unfairly targeting you with questions above your syllabus level?"

Harry thought about that for a moment, then shook his head "I'm afraid not Professor – the questions he asked were in the footnotes of the recommended text, and explained more thoroughly in the extended reading. Could I ask... what did I do to him?"

Professor Sprout looked uneasy for a moment, before replying "Nothing that our own healer couldn't fix. And nothing compared to what I'm going to give him for trying to hurt one of my students. Don't worry Harry – he won't violate your privacy like that again. Not if he knows what's good for him. I will be talking to the Headmaster on your behalf"

And with that, she patted him gently on the shoulder, before calling in Madam Pomphrey to give him a final check-up. He'd been released and was walking back to the Hufflepuff common room when he finally got up the courage to ask Tom what he'd done.

The boy had looked rather smug "I realised the connection was maintained via eye contact. So I gouged his out"

* * *

 **I love reviews - they help feed the muse and get me writing :)**


	11. Quidditch

**I'm sorry it's been so long since I updated - this story isn't abandoned, I promise! I've just started my medical degree and the last few months have been frantic as I tried settling in. I know it's not much of an excuse, but here's 5000 words to make up for it...**

 **I've been blown away by the response this stories had - I've never had such a good response before on any of my fics and I'd like to thank you all for continuing to review and favourite this even when I hadn't uploaded anything in a while. It made me pull my act together and get down to writing this chapter.**

 **Hope you all enjoy. And thanks to my housemate for betaing this for me :)**

* * *

Whispers had been following Harry from the moment he'd left his dormitory on the 2nd September. People queued outside classrooms, stood on tiptoe to get a look at him, or doubled back to pass him in the corridors again, staring like he was an animal in a zoo. Tom had been insistent that he keep his head high instead of cowering away from the attention, but Harry secretly hated it.

It was now a hundred times worse.

Professor Snape was out of action for almost a whole week, whilst Madam Pomphrey regrew him a fresh set of eyes, and during that time his fellow classmates elaborated fantastical stories as to what Harry had done to cause such a thing. People stared at him when they thought he wasn't looking and whispered about him behind his back, talks of him being unstable at best and a Dark Lord at worst. His fellow Hufflepuffs tried to shield him from the most malicious of the rumours but the poisonous words still followed him. It was nothing he hadn't heard before, but Hogwarts was supposed to be different from Privet Drive.

Thankfully, the rumours died down once Professor Snape had returned to the Great Hall. The man apparently took over 200 points on that first day from anyone who dared mention the incident, so whilst the talking may not have stopped, people were at least too afraid to do it in public. And that was good enough for Harry because he had more important things to worry about, namely flying lessons.

They had been having their flying classes with the Slytherins, in a timetable change that had caused more than a few raised eyebrows with their older housemates.

"Slytherins?" Gabriel had said when the first years had told him that morning. "But they always have flying lessons with the Gryffindors – which would explain why there is always at least one casualty every year…" He looked at their terrified faces and backtracked "Don't worry you lot – there's…"

Harry pulled back from the group and headed towards the Great Hall, wand in his hand just in case there was trouble. Not that he could use it…

"Typical" he said, darkly "just what I always wanted. To make a fool of myself on a broomstick in front of Malfoy".

Draco Malfoy had been unpleasant from the moment Harry had snubbed him on the train, but since the 'Potions Incident', he had become downright malicious. Jinxes in the corridor that were far above first year level, snide remarks, glares in his direction. Harry didn't know quite what had caused the change in temperament, but Tom suspected that the boy idolised Snape in some way or another.

" _Don't be idiotic - you won't make a fool of yourself"._

"You don't know that," Harry replied to his imaginary friend with a certain amount of annoyance, "I've been made one in every class so far. And in several corridors".

" _I doubt anyone holds that hex against you"_ Tom said, referring to a particular confrontation in the corridors that had ended with Harry losing 30 points from Hufflepuff for arriving to Potions with his robes coloured pink. _"They certainly wouldn't have if you'd let me help you"._

"You gouged a teacher's eyes out! You're lucky they didn't expel me! How can I trust you to look after Malfoy?"

" _You're not still sulking about that? Grow up Harry. That man was a bully and the only way to deal with bullies is to teach them in a language they'll understand"._ Tom had stopped moving, almost causing Harry to walk into him.

" _You need to stop doubting me,"_ Tom took a step towards him, and Harry stepped back to maintain distance until his back hit the wall. Tom was easily a foot taller than him, and his face contorted into something ugly when he was angry, _"I came to you all those years ago to be your… friend. I told you to listen to me, and I would give you power beyond your wildest dreams. I made you smarter, I taught you how to make adults like you and your peers want to be you. I got rid of Dudley, I sorted out the Dursleys – that was all me. Where you would be without me? Little Harry – alone, forgotten and still rotting in that little cupboard. Unloved. Nothing"._ His hands burned into Harry's shoulders as he sneered, eyes almost flashing red in the candlelight, _"after all I've done for you, do you still doubt me? Harry?"_

Harry was shaking as he leant against the wall, his eyes wide as he tried and failed to talk around the lump caught in his throat.

"I…" he squeaked, before coughing "I… I'm sorry, Tom. You know best… I know that really… I'm sorry. I'm sorry".

Tom seemed to regard Harry, before dismissively shaking his head. The anger melted away as he said _"You must let me protect you, Harry"._

Harry threw his arms around the boy, ignoring the heat in favour of the comfort of his friend's arms as they wrapped around him, "I'm sorry. I'll do better, Tom. I'll do better. I didn't mean to disappoint you".

" _I know. Let us continue to breakfast, and you can tell me why you're really worried about Quidditch. You've enjoyed the lessons so far"._

Harry didn't know why he was surprised – of course Tom knew something else was up. "What if I'm a disappointment to my family? I know I am – I'm rubbish at magic but this… my dad was on the house team. They say he was really, really good. And I'm just… not meant to be a wizard".

Tom shook his head, _"Firstly, an ability in sports is not a genetically inherited trait. Secondly, all of your family is dead so luckily for you there is no one to disappoint. Thirdly..."_ He grimaced in distaste, " _If your parents were as Saint-like as the rumours suggest, I'm sure it would be an impossibility for you to... dissatisfy them in any way. You are a wizard, Harry else you wouldn't have received a letter"._

Harry smiled, already feeling better. He shouldn't doubt Tom. He should now this by now, "Thanks".

"Who you talking to?" Hannah asked, coming out of nowhere to sit next to him in the near-empty Great Hall.

"No-one... myself?" he muttered, before being interrupting by the rest of his year coming into the hallway with only one topic on their minds, and the rest of breakfast went by with the discussion of whether Malfoy really had narrowly missed a muggle helicopter, and what would happen if someone lost control of the broom, set the bristles on fire and flew headfirst into the castle roof only to fall several stories to the ground.

* * *

After a dull History of Magic lesson with Professor Binns, Harry, Tom and the other Hufflepuffs hurried down the front steps and into the grounds for their first flying lesson. It was a clear, breezy day and the grass rippled under their feet as they marched down the sloping grass towards a smooth lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the Forbidden Forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance.

The Slytherins were already there, and so were twenty broomsticks lying in neat lines on the ground. Gabriel had told them all the previous evening to be careful of the school brooms, because some of them started to vibrate if you flew too high or always flew slightly to the left. It didn't fill Harry with confidence.

Their teacher Madam Hooch arrived. She had short, grey hair and yellow eyes like a hawk.

"Well, what are you all waiting for," she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up".

Harry glanced down at his broom. It was old and some of the twigs stuck out at odd angles. Tom looked distinctly unimpressed, despite having spent most of the previous evening explaining the rules of Quidditch to him, and telling him how important the game was to the social hierarchy at Hogwarts. Harry had just thought it sounded fun.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom" called Madam Hooch at the front "And say 'Up!'"

"UP!" Everyone shouted.

Harry's broom jumped into his hand at once, but it was one of the few that did. Some of them hadn't moved at all, like Justin who was staring at the stick with a frown on his face. Hannah's had hovered in the air for a moment, and the girl had looked so terrified that the broom dropped straight back to the ground.

" _Perhaps they can sense fear,_ " Tom said from over Harry's shoulder. He'd been investigating the twigs making up the tail end of the broom whilst Madam Hooch helped the rest of the class get theirs up into their hands. She then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows, correcting their grips. Harry was delighted when she told Malfoy he'd been doing it wrong for years.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard" said Madam Hooch "Keep you brooms steady, rise a few feet and then come straight back down by leaning forwards slightly. On my whistle – three – two – one".

The whistle blew and Harry kicked off, leaving Tom on the floor. It was fantastic, amazing – everything that he had ever imagined magic to be and more. The wind whistled through his hair as he flew up, then it only seemed natural to lean forwards and soar around the stands and dive back down to the ground, narrowly missing gouging the grass with the end of the shaft.

He flew back to the rest of the group, whom he had just realised had been staring at him open mouthed, some still hovering the few feet above the ground they had been asked to reach. Madam Hooch was staring at him just as blankly as the other students.

"Well then, Mr Potter," she started, as the Hufflepuff's started to cheer in appreciation when Harry dismounted his broom with a sheepish expression "It appears that you need very little instruction in my class. You're a natural. And you will receive detention for disobeying my orders. 10 points to Hufflepuff for the most exceptional flying I've seen in a first year. This was your first time on a broom wasn't it? Have another 5 points. You can now help the rest of the class with their own technique".

Harry grinned. He had a detention, that was true, but finally there was something he was good at. He'd been so scared for the last few weeks that there had been some big mistake. He was yet to successfully perform any spell, even simple ones that he had been able to do wandlessly at home. The rest of the class had managed to turn their matchsticks into needles and back again, but Harry was still stuck staring at it whilst Professor McGonagall tried not to look worried. The only thing Harry had been good at was potions, but Professor Snape refused to mark his work fairly, even when his potion was the exact cerulean with forest green smoke and diamond specs described in the book. But now there was this. Flying – something that proved he was really a wizard.

He spent the rest of the session flitting around the rest of the Hufflepuffs, and a Slytherin girl called Daphne, explaining the feeling of flying and showing them how to control the broom with body weight and hand grip. Madam Hooch said that they were progressing much faster than they usually did, and that she was going to teach them how to bank correctly and without falling off. Unfortunately, that ended up with Susan (who Harry had been helping) falling sideways off her broom and falling to the floor with a disgusting cracking noise. Harry had dived down immediately, but Madam Hooch reached her first. She cast a spell over the crying girl and read the coloured runes that patterned the air in a steady stream from her wand.

"Broken wrist," Harry heard her mutter. "Come on dear – it's all right, up you get"

She turned to the rest of the class "Feet on the floor. NOW"

There was a clatter of movement as everyone hurried to get themselves back on the grass, Harry included. He stood next to Hannah, who looked a little like she was about to cry. Harry found her hand and squeezed it comfortingly.

"None of you are to move while I take this girl to the hospital wing. You leave those brooms where they are, or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch'. Come on, dear".

Susan, her face tear-streaked, clutching his wrist, hobbled off with Madam Hooch, who had her arm around her.

No sooner were they out of earshot than Malfoy burst into laughter.

"Did you see her face? Father always said the remaining Bones were a disgrace to their family".

"You leave her alone Malfoy" Hannah snarled, anger on her face that Harry had never seen before from the good-natured girl.

"Protecting your girlfriend, Abbott? My mother always wondered about the two of your parents – did they like to swap?" said Pansy Parkinson, a hard-faced Slytherin girl. "They always were very close weren't they?"

Hannah's face went pale except for two red spots high on her cheekbones. Her wand was in her hand. Harry stepped forward and put his hand on her arm, before looking pointedly at the rest of his house, "Don't rise to it Hannah – that's what they want".

"Speaking ill of the dead" Justin said, stepping forward to separate Hannah from the crowd of Slytherins. "Very uncouth. I suppose you cannot expect any less from such philistines. In the muggle world we teach our children sensitivity, manners and empathy. I suppose such values aren't warranted in the wizarding world".

The Oxford 'twang' of Justin's voice was suddenly very prominent, all clipped vowels and consonants, somehow giving the conflicting impression that each word was planned for optimal effect, yet the whole thing was still made up on the fly. He did vaguely remember Justin saying he was descended from a Lord of some description, and that he was heading to Eton before his letter had come through.

"I'm sorry to give you such a bad impression, Justin," Ernie said, also stepping closer. He suddenly had the same inflection in his voice that Justin had. "Not all of us were so badly raised. I feel that I must apologise on behalf of our world".

"That's ok – I, unlike some, do not base my entire view on the world on my experience with one person" Justin replied. Pansy Parkinson's face was going redder and redder as she struggled for something to say. Tom moved to sit next to Harry.

" _This is what you will be like one day_ " he said, resting a hand on Harry's shoulder " _You're a little behind right now, but you'll soon catch up_ ".

Harry didn't know how to respond to that, so instead he decided to step into the conversation, "I'm glad that we in Hufflepuff understand the importance of friendship. Unlike some".

He looked at Malfoy pointedly, and the boy went pink, obviously remembering the rejection on the train. Harry smirked, the same smirk that Tom did whenever he was right, and turned his back on him to check on Hannah. He didn't see the curse aimed at his back. He did feel himself being pushed out the way and to the floor and Hannah making a choking sound as the green light hit her.

"Hannah? Are you ok?".

" _She's fine Harry"_ Tom said, stopping Harry from going to her _"What we should be worried about is what to do with this piece of slime. Will you finally let me deal with him?"._

Harry turned his head to look at Malfoy, who was looking rather smug as the Slytherins around him started to laugh nervously. He looked at Tom questioningly.

" _Hufflepuff and Slytherin aren't at war. They don't actively target each other. And Hannah is from a pureblood family – not a noble or ancient one of course, but the Abbot family is very close with the Ancient and Noble Bones family. It could turn out very badly for Malfoy if Susan decided to pursue this"._

Harry nodded, pretending he understood. What sort of world had he ended up in, where feuds and family status was still an overriding factor of how someone was treated? He shook his head. Good thing he had Tom.

He stood up, wand out "You hurt my friend" he said, walking towards Malfoy with a dark expression on his face "You hurt my friend and as such you hurt me. I've let you get away with a lot over the last few weeks Malfoy, but no more. Do you remember what happens to people who hurt me?"

He watched Tom walk up to the boy and scratch a short line from the corner of his eye to the high, regal cheekbones. The boy went a delicate shade of grey and it was almost satisfying to watch the other Slytherins exchange looks as blood seeped from the wound. He turned back on his heels to walk towards the other Hufflepuffs. They watched him warily for a second, before Justin grinned. He clapped Harry on the back and said "Good show old chap – good to know you had it in you. I think we should start Hannah to the hospital wing, if you have any idea where it is. I don't know when Professor Hooch will be back, and she's started vomiting slugs".

"Good point – I'll grab one arm, you grab the other?" Harry said "Can you guys tell the Professor where we've gone, and that we'll be done soon".

"Sure" Ernie said, "Hope you get better soon Hannah".

Harry started walking them towards the castle, beginning to wish they'd brought a broom with them, though he wasn't sure how he would have secured Hannah to it, especially with how she was doubling over every few seconds to throw up another large slug onto the stone floor

They ran into Professor Hooch just as they were reaching the floor of the infirmary.

"What is this Mr Potter? Mr Finch-Fletchley?"

"Hannah was… hit by something" Harry said, looking at Justin pointedly to stay quiet "We didn't see who. We thought she needed to see someone in the infirmary".

"Well – you thought right Mr Potter. Just drop her off in there and Madam Pomphry will take care of her. There's no point the two of you returning to the pitch – the lesson is almost over anyway. Just remember Potter – detention tonight, with me. Straight after dinner".

"Yes Professor" Harry said, before hurrying to get to the infirmary.

As predicted, Madam Pomphry fixed Hannah in a heartbeat, muttering something about how arguing students would be the death of her, and how there should be a lesson every year about how wands were not a toy. Then, they were sent off with a tut and Hannah was told to try and get some food in her stomach to help absorb the slime she was still burping up every now and again. The girl looked green at the very thought, though perked up a bit as she explained to the newly fixed Susan about how she had played the hero for once.

" _Loyal, that one"_ Tom said, as Harry lingered behind the three Hufflepuffs who were laughing as they headed down the stairs for lunch .

"All of them are" Harry said "Would you have let me step in front of a curse like that?".

" _Depends who for, and what the curse was"_ Tom said instantly. He was quiet for another second _"But not like she did. She didn't even know what had been fired. Knew nothing except it was aimed at you and that Malfoy sent it. You really did choose an acceptable house, Harry. Now don't fall behind. It'll make them suspicious"._

* * *

That evening, Harry nervously made his way towards the Quidditch pitch to his first ever detention (which really was a miracle considering that he had blinded a teacher during his first week of school). The pitch was empty when he arrived, apart from two brooms and a box rattling ominously in the centre of the green field. The tapestry covered turrets looked infinitely more eerie in the waning light, and Harry was glad for Tom's comforting presence by his side.

"Madam Hooch? Are you there?"

He whirled around, panicked at the sudden affirmative response from behind him. Tom looked rather amused.

"Ah – you're here. Good. Now, what are you waiting for – I want you to jump on the broom and do three full laps around the pitch as fast as you can. Go on…"

Harry was bemused for a second, frozen to the spot as he tried to determine what had just happened. Then he did what he was asked. What followed was probably the most undetention-like detention in the history of schooling. It was hardly a punishment, circling around the pitch before catching and throwing large leather balls through the large hoops, and having to catch golf balls in middair (Madam Hooch had grinned madly during that last exercise, and had made him try it again only with mad, enchanted balls he recognised as bludgers chasing after him). He was panting heavily by the end of it.

"Not bad at all, Mr Potter" the Professor finally said when he returned to the ground, holding the broom reverently in his right hand. "Not bad at all. You have the potential to be a good chaser, depending on how you work with others. If not, you already have the makings of a fantastic seeker. Now, normally first years can't make the house teams but it would be criminal to not have your talents fostered. So I will have a talk with your Head of House – you're a Hufflepuff aren't you – and you might be able to sit in on their practises, and get trained ready for next years tryouts. Their current Captain – Trevor McGarren is a seeker and he's leaving next year. I'm sure he'd like a protégé like yourself"

Harry wasn't sure what to say, but he was certain that a grin was spreading across his face. He had potential, in something based on magic.

"Well boy – what do you think?".

"Yes… I mean… that sounds great Professor" Harry said, stumbling over his words in his excitement.

"Excellent – I'll talk to your house captain and he'll get in contact with you shortly. I'm expecting great things from you Mr Potter. Don't disappoint me. If you want a quick way into the castle, head around to the east side, third alcove along. Touch the stone with a dragon's face etched into it and it will open a door into the dungeons. You can find your way to the Hufflepuff common room pretty easily from there".

"Thank you Professor" Harry said with a grin, heading towards the castle.

" _So – you're going to be on the Quidditch team then?"_ Tom asked, once they were out of ear shot of the professor. Harry was suddenly nervous.

"You're ok with that, aren't you Tom?" he asked, hoping he hadn't angered his best friend. Tom seemed to consider it for a moment.

" _Of course I am, Harry. What did I tell you before? The social hierarchy of this school is entirely dependent on their Quidditch team. I think it is to do with the fact the number of points between the winning and losing team get added to the house cup total. Such an arbitrary thing to get excited about"._

"It isn't arbitrary" Harry argued. "The house cup is important – look how happy everyone was when I got 10 points in herbology for knowing what dittany was".

" _I suppose in the enclosed environment of a school, with no true influence of the outside world, that could be considered true"._

Harry decided not to comment on that "So… you really aren't mad?"

" _I'm truly not mad. Now let us return to the castle"._

Harry grinned and started running up the grass towards the alcove that Madam Hooch had pointed out, only stopping to wave at Hagrid who was in process of spraying the huge school pumpkins with some green liquid that stank of ammonia.

Harry had been expecting the wall to open into a corridor when he pressed the dragon in the belly, but instead it turned into a small, wooden door barely big enough to crawl through. It led straight to the dungeon, and he decided not to question how they ended up on a sub-surface level, through a wooden door he knew for a fact lead to a disused classroom.

Tom started to talk through the errors in Harry's essay about energy conservation in transfiguration as they walked, only quietening as they reached a slightly ajar door down the corridor, one that Harry instantly recognised as Snape's office. He froze – it was past curfew, and whilst he knew that Professor Hooch would vouch for him if he were caught, he doubted Professor Snape would care about a little thing like that. He sent Tom ahead to check the coast was clear, and he was beckoned over a minute later.

But something made him stop. He could hear voices from inside the room, and forgetting all instincts of self-preservation, he stepped closer to make it out. There was crying.

"You were foolish Draco" said Professor's Snape's deep voice, but it was different somehow. It took Harry a long moment realise it as because there wasn't any hatred in it. Instead it sounded almost… sympathetic.

"I know Uncle" said Malfoy, and his voice to sounded different, if only due to the croak in it that Harry was sure was from crying. Why was Malfoy crying? "I just… I don't like him. He hurt you and no one did anything about it, and now he's threatened me as well".

"You attacked his friend" the Professor pointed out, and there was a sniffling sound that sounded like Draco trying to suppress more tears. "But I understand why you dislike him so – he is arrogant as his father was, strutting around like he owns the school".

"Exactly" Malfoy said, and Harry couldn't help but creep closer, seeing through the door to see the strangest scene he had ever witnessed. Malfoy was sat on Professor Snape's lap, face pressed into the man's dark robes "Father is so angry with me for not making friends with him".

"You know I can't do anything to stop him from…"

"I know… I know Uncle Severus. It's not your fault… Potter rejected me without even knowing who I was. I should have known he'd be a mudblood-lover".

"Language, Draco. Now drink your tea. There's no need to be worried – Potter won't actually harm you, and showing that you're scared he could will just lower your standing amongst your fellow Slytherins".

"You're sure?"

Harry became aware that Malfoy might actually start heading to the door within the next few moments and hurriedly stumbled back, heading down the corridor at triple speed. That had been a private event – it was obvious that no one was supposed to have seen that piece of interaction between the snobbish bully and the evil potion's master. Harry wasn't even sure what to make of it. And worse of all, Harry felt guilty.

It sounded like Lucius Malfoy wasn't a very nice human being, and not a very good father. Draco had sounded terrified when he talked about his father's reaction to not making friends with the great 'Harry Potter'.

" _What are you thinking Harry?"_ Tom asked when they reached the top of the stairs. There was only a corridor to go before reaching the Hufflepuff corridor, and Harry was rather impressed at the shortcut. That wasn't what he was thinking about though.

"Was I a bit hasty when I blew Draco off. I mean… he was a bully and I don't want to be friends with a bully, Tom".

" _I'm a bully"_ Tom replied simply and Harry bristled

"No you're not – you do bad things sometimes but you only do them to protect me and stuff".

" _Exactly"_ Tom replied, looking smug _"I do it to protect me. By the sounds of it, young Malfoy only does it to keep his father off his back. Or perhaps he does believe in pureblood superiority. After all, he was raised to believe this. It would hardly be surprising. What I am trying to say is that people are more complicated than just good and bad Harry. You know this – I taught you this"._

"I know… I just…"

" _Feel guilty?"_

"Yeah" Harry replied, looking at his feet as he leaned against the wall that hid the entrance to the Hufflepuff Common Room.

" _Don't – it isn't worth it. You've made your choice now. If you wish to change your mind and befriend Malfoy – which I strongly recommend you do considering how influential his family is – then you are welcome to try. But you have to decide whether what you saw tonight is enough to change your view of him. Else you aren't going to make a good friend, are you?"_

Harry thought on that for a moment, and nodded "You're right" he said, sounding relieved "I'll think about it some more before approaching him. And I don't want him to think I'm only doing it because I think he was right before about muggleborns and stuff. Hermione still outranks him".

" _Let's just quit loitering shall we?"_ Tom said, shaking his head.

The common room was full of noise, and his year approached him immediately to ask about the detention, and complaining how unfair it was that he received one for simple flying whilst Malfoy got off with casting a hex. He told them about playing Quidditch, and had Ernie say 'You're joking? That's so unfair!" so loudly that Harry rubbed his ears, and the rest of the house came over to find out more. As they congratulated him, and sent a couple of seventh years to the kitchen for celebratory Butterbeers, Harry felt a warmth rise inside of him. This was what home felt like, he thought, sipping a sickly sweet drink and getting foam all over his upper lip. His house was laughing together, and Hannah was mimicking him outfly the house seeker in the imaginary game they had created whilst Susan called him over. This was his family, and that was fantastic.

* * *

 **Pretty please, review. And I might even get a chapter out before 5 months pass!**


	12. Hallowe'en

**Good news! I have not been killed by an axe murderer! I am just an awful human being who has been really rubbish at writing anything. Literally, I have had no motivation for writing anything (even though all your reviews have been absolutely amazing! The only reason this made it anywhere was because of how lovely you guys all are!)**

 **I promise I haven't abandoned this fic! It's just taking some time**

 **And now, to give you guys some answers :)**

* * *

Perhaps it was because he was now so busy, what with Quidditch practice three evenings a week on top of all his homework, but Harry could hardly believe it when he realised that they'd already been at Hogwarts two months. The castle felt more like home than Privet Drive had ever done. The lessons, too, were becoming more and more interesting now that most of the class had mastered the basics; Professor McGonagall had them trying their first animate-animate transfiguration, Professor Sprout had given them a mysterious bulb to raise and harvest, Professor Flitwick had announced in charms that he thought they were ready to make things fly, and Professor Quirrell, well, he'd not said anything specific, but he'd promised that the day's lesson would be 'extra special'.

"Do not touch the box in front of you" he drawled as the class filed into their usual seats. There was an immediate murmur of confusion, that doubled in volume as the object of the professor's warning became obvious.

Each desk had a small, wooden box placed upon it, with oriental patterns and images carved into the sides and lid. They were small – not even big enough to store a potion's vial and they all looked rather innocuous.

"These are Chinese curse boxes – curious little devices originating from the Xiao Hinggan Mountain Range. One of the peoples there have developed a unique technique of imbuing non-magical trees with magic as they grow, allowing the resulting wood hold charms and spells for several months without the need for runic arrays" Professor Quirrell paused in his explanation, looking pointedly at the members of the class who weren't taking notes "Of course, since the creation of advanced duplication charms, their value has dropped slightly, but they're still an interesting item. I purchased one upon my travels to the orient several years ago, and have now duplicated it several times to allow you something to practise with. Each box is protected by a different spell – some would count as dark by the ministry's standard, some are protected with simple schoolyard jinxes. Most of them are so far out of your league, I would advise you not to even try assessing them. I have no intentions of healing you, if you attempt something too complicated"

Harry could feel Tom almost vibrate with excitement, the dark-haired boy already flitting from table to table to inspect the boxes further.

"Each box has a piece of parchment within it – if you manage to open a box then you can write your name upon the parchment. Then close the box to reset the protective charm, and move on to another. At the end of the class, I will count whoever has the most names and they shall win a prize from me. However, if you set off a single box, then you will lose all points and you will not be allowed to the infirmary until the end of class, no matter how painful the consequences. I have spent the last 8 weeks teaching you how to assess how dangerous an object is. There is no point having that information, then not using it to realise when you are in above your heads. There will also be house points on offer to whoever can give me a full diagnostic of each box, using the spells I have taught you so far"

He walked back to his desk and sat down, reaching for a pile of essays "You have 5 minutes per box. Rotate anticlockwise. Begin now"

Harry rested his head on the desk once it became obvious that the Professor was no longer watching. What was the point when he couldn't do the basic diagnostic spells?

Unfortunately, Tom was yet to be dissuaded and was prodding at his arm pointedly " _Harry James Potter – you will open this box and you will do it now. I will not have us missing out on a prize from Professor Quirrell. Who knows what he might give us?"_

Harry groaned, really beginning to resent Tom's hero worship of Professor Quirrell "The point of this exercise is for us to realise when we're over our heads. Therefore, I should just accept that Malfoy is right. I'm just a squib and as such am incapable of opening any of them"

" _Stop being defeatist – you can at least do the first step"_

Harry sat up straight, wrinkling his nose in distaste before giving in. He closed his eyes and stretched out his senses, feeling for the familiar crimson and black that made up his best friend. Once located he reached out further until he found the box. It shone with a sickly yellow light, which he recognised from the Professor's lectures on intent based casting.

"Strong magic" he said confidently "Not dark intent, but an intent to harm. Probably a prank jinx, or perhaps a minor pain curse cast by someone good at masking their true intentions"

His words caused Susan to look over at him from her desk. She had been glaring at her own box as her wand stubbornly refused to give her an intelligible reading on the charms protecting it. She leaned over and whispered "How do you do that? Whenever I close my eyes, I can't see anything except the backs of my own eyelids"

Harry grinned, preening a little at the compliment and acknowledgement of the only other piece of magic he could do except flying. Tom reckoned that Harry's ability to search for and locate his imaginary friend in his head allowed him to reach out his senses further to 'read' certain pieces of magic in the room. It gave him a headache though and he could only do it for a few seconds at a time before he lost concentration.

"Well – you don't really need to do it. I mean, Professor Quirrell said that it's a useless skill because it takes a lot of concentration for not a lot of reward" He shrugged, wishing Tom would listen to the Professor. His friend thought it could have many uses and was forcing him to search the library to find more information on it. "No one else in the class got it either, and you're getting really good at diagnostic spells. You're hardly ever messing up the classification now"

There was a bang and Harry leaned away from Susan quickly.

"Mr Weasley – I told you not to try something you could not handle. Even if that something is just a simple Fununculus charm" Professor Quirrell said without looking up "Let that be a lesson to you all – do not try and open something you cannot handle. No talking amongst yourself please. This is supposed to be a competition. Treat it as one"

Several more people activated their boxes over the next two hours, finding themselves with different coloured hair, boils or in one nasty case, transfigured into a ladybird. In the last instance, the professor had very carefully put the affected Gryffindor into a jam jar to avoid them being accidentally stepped on. Harry had been affected by nothing – after all, he'd not tried to open a box yet.

Tom was glaring at him angrily _"That last box just had a weak protection charm on it"_

"I can't do magic – you know that" Harry hissed as he moved to their final box. His head was aching, dull and incessant behind his eyes and why was Tom just rubbing his failures in?

" _You've stopped trying"_ Tom accused and Harry flinched as the boy put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed tightly _"The teachers are talking. They're wondering if it was a mistake to let you in here – the great Harry Potter, a squib. They'll send you back to the Dursleys and if they do Harry, I won't protect you again. I only protect people worth my time"_

The disgust in Tom's voice hurt, and Harry blinked back tears that made him glad he had ended up in the front corner desk where no one could see them.

"Fine – I'll try" he said, reaching his senses to look at the box

It pulsed darkly in the landscape of his mind, red flashes of light and dark smoke that billowed from the lid, across the desk and towards him. He opened his eyes, inhaling sharply

"Dark magic. Powerful" he gasped "Intent to hurt… I have no chance of disabling that"

Tom raised an eyebrow, and Harry kept his eyes to the desk morosely. It wasn't his fault – no one in first year could disable something like that. It was exactly the sort of thing Professor Quirrell said they shouldn't try and open themselves and instead they should find someone more equipped so they didn't end up in St Mungos.

Harry paused, then grinned as he had an idea – an idea that not even Tom had thought of. He stood up, not touching the box and headed up towards the teacher's desk.

He grinned at the Professor winningly, just as Tom had taught him – a sparkle of mischief in his eyes and boyish enthusiasm that tended to charm most teachers "Um… Professor. I seem to have found myself a box protected by dark magic. As it is so obviously out of my league, I thought I should find someone more equipped to handle it. Would you be able to disable it for me?" He said, practically parroting the teachers lesson back to him.

Professor Quirrell looked Harry up and down, scrutinising him. Judging him. Eventually, he seemed to find what he saw tolerable because he smiled in a way that reminded Harry almost exactly of Tom.

"Certainly Mr Potter – I am pleased you are aware when you are beaten" he said, sounding so smug that Harry wanted to argue back. But then he'd have to look at Tom's disappointed expression again. Instead he swallowed his pride and just nodded "However, I only help those who are worth my time. I would like you to prove yourself to me. I am aware you have just moved onto levitation charms with Professor Flitwick. Perform one for me"

Harry became acutely aware that the rest of the class was looking up at him (at least those who weren't squealing in pain from setting off their boxes) and he swallowed. He couldn't perform a charm like that – most of the class couldn't perform it yet. It was the most complicated spell they'd learned. He turned to Tom, who was looking at him pointedly.

He took out his wand, felt the familiar rush of warmth from it just taunting him

"You can do it Harry" said a familiar voice, and he flushed at Hannah's confidence in him, quickly followed by Susan and Ernie, all three of whom had been practising spell casting with him in the evenings.

Perhaps this time would be different – that was how it worked in books after all. The protagonist struggled, yet managed to perform the task at the crucial moment. Unfortunately, this wasn't a story, and when Harry said 'Wingardium Leviosa', the quill he was aiming at remained stubbornly down.

There were titters from the remaining Gryffindors, whilst the Hufflepuffs remained steely-faced in solidarity. Harry flushed, eyes fixing on the floor so he didn't have to look at Tom's face. Why couldn't he just do magic? Why, when he had managed so much magic at home?

"Please return to your seat, Mr Potter" Professor Quirrell didn't even sound disappointed. Instead, he was… gleeful?

Harry turned back to the quill, putting his wand back in his pocket. He remembered being back in his cupboard, with the Dursleys asleep and Tom instructing him to find that power inside him. He remembered the warmth channelling from his chest and to his hands, the click of the lock as it opened and the relief as he realised he could finally eat again. He held that feeling of desperation close to him, and waved his hand at the quill, trying to make the whole move look easy as he channelled his frustration at the feather.

There was a beat, and it rose solidly from the desk. Professor Quirrell looked at it in disbelief for a moment, before he relaxed with a laugh "Wandless and wordless magic – impressive Mr Potter. You've been holding out on us"

The feather dropped to the table, and Harry looked at his teacher pointedly whilst trying to hold back his exhaustion "Thank you, Sir. My box?"

Harry smiled proudly, eyes only on Tom as the Professor slowly stood up and tapped the box once with his wand. It screamed, a piercing noise that made everyone in the room cringe. Smoke drifted from the wood before it opened to reveal a blank piece of parchment. Harry walked back to his desk, pulled out his quill and wrote his name down with the polished calligraphy that Tom had spent years forcing him to learn.

"And with that, our lesson is done" Professor Quirrell said, walking back to his desk and looking over his students "It would appear that only one person has managed to open a box and write their name on it. That is to be expected, and I will award 5 points to each person who was intelligent enough to realise that as a first year, barely two months into your magical education, that you are not equipped to dismantle _anything_. So all of you who made it out unscathed, I congratulate you. And to Mr Potter, the only one to remember the second part of your instructions, and an impressive display of wandless and wordless magic, I give 20 points and ask to remain back after class. The rest of you may leave"

Harry stood awkwardly at his desk as his friends walked towards the door, holding a limping Justin between them. Once they'd all left, Professor Quirrell moved.

"Congratulations Mr Potter – you performed admirably, considering your… disability"

Harry scowled, looking at his teacher furiously and Tom put a hand on his shoulder before he had an unfortunate outburst

"Thank you, Sir," he said with gritted teeth

"Your little display of wandless magic was particularly illuminating"

Harry wasn't sure what he was supposed to say to that, so he stayed quiet whilst Professor Quirrell's gaze sent uncomfortable shivers down his spine. The man seemed to be trying to meet his eyes, and Harry didn't need Tom's warning to start looking at the floor.

"And I suppose, Mr Potter, that you would like your reward"

Tom squeezed his shoulder, and Harry said stiffly "Yes please, Sir"

"Then follow me" the teacher said, and with a stern glance from Tom, he followed the teacher out of the classroom and down some corridors. It took a long time for him to recognise the part of the castle they were heading towards

"The Hospital Wing?" Harry asked, sounding confused

"Yes, Mr Potter. This is my reward to you. Ah – M… madam Pomphrey. M…m…may I have a w…word w…with you about M…m…mister Potter?"

The Professor started talking to the nurse in hushed voices and Harry, quickly getting bored, wandered into the main infirmary to check after his friends.

"Where is everyone?" he asked to the room, empty bar for a fifth year Gryffindor with tentacles growing from their face.

" _I'd imagine the Professor made it so they were all healed once they left the room_ " Tom said, coming up behind him. He sighed at the confusion on Harry's face " _Obviously it would be considered strange if several first years came to the infirmary with numerous painful injuries, directly after a lesson_ "

"Of course. That is a perfectly logical conclusion to make in a school where everyone carries a dangerous weapon"

" _Quite_ " Tom said, ignoring the sarcasm " _Now, considering your apparent lack of interest, I assume you do not care for what they are discussing over there? Oh… You do? Why should I tell you if you make no attempt to find out for yourself?_ "

Harry scowled at his imaginary friend, who just infuriatingly raised an eyebrow, before continuing in a voice normally reserved for young children, or the mentally deficient " _They're talking about testing you for something – the nurse is saying it's too early for a diagnosis, whilst I believe Professor Quirrell said that the only way it wasn't this illness is if you were a squib. That making you wait any longer for treatment would be cruel_ " he paused " _I like the man_ "

Harry ignored the last comment "What could I be diagnosed with?"

Before he could answer, Madam Pomphrey came bustling in, Professor Quirrell following serenely behind her "Well then, it is easy enough to test" Madam Pomphrey said, still sounding sceptical "Mr Potter, would you mind sitting on the bed for me?"

Harry frowned "What for? Is there something wrong with me?"

"Nothing, Mr Potter. The Professor has suggested a test that I would have considered at Christmas. But considering new information, we might as well try now. Stay still for me. _Loco potentiae_ "

She seemed to read something from her wand that no one else could see

" _Priori potential incrementum_ "

She lowered her wand, and looked at Harry for a long moment "Professor Quirrell, I'd thank you to leave so I can talk to my patient. Would you be so kind as to locate Pomona for me? I think she should be here for this"

"Of c-c-c-course P-Prof-fessor" Professor Quirrell said, looking rather cowed by the Matron. Harry wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of the response, and wondered if Madam Pomphrey knew she was being mocked "G…G…good day, M…m…mister Potter"

"Madam Pomphrey, what's wrong with me? Is it about my lack of magic?"

"Oh Mister Potter, you aren't lacking in magic, don't you worry. Let's just wait for your head of house to arrive"

However, when the portly woman arrived she was soon followed by none other than Albus Dumbledore himself.

Harry wasn't sure whether to be worried or honoured that the man had come, though Tom had an entirely different reaction

"Is it common practise to have the headmaster come to talk about a student's private medical records?" Harry finally repeated after Tom, when the boy pinched his shoulder hard enough to make tingles run down his arm

"I wouldn't say common, Mr Potter, but I daresay it is unusual to have such a situation in the first place. But do not fear, I am bound under confidentiality as certainly as the good Matron is"

"Would you like the headmaster to leave, Harry?" Professor Sprout asked, and Harry shook his head before Tom could make another ridiculous request

"No Professor, it's ok. I was just surprised" Tom pinched his arm again, and Harry deliberately ignored him

"Well, I thank you for your confidence in me, Mr Potter" the headmaster said, a kindly twinkle in his eye that made Harry feel more confident in his decision to defy Tom. This man was one of the greatest wizards of his lifetime, after all.

"Well, now that's all sorted" Madam Pomphrey said, sounding impatient to begin "I believe Mr Potter has Patercore Rupture"

The two Professor's frowned, with Professor Sprout saying "Oh, the poor dear"

"Um… sorry. But what does that mean?" Harry asked, anxiously looking between worried faces

"Well, Mr Potter" Madam Pomphrey started, obviously trying to simplify her explanation "Have you had any classes on magical theory yet? Yes? You remember that witches and wizards have a magical core that takes magic from the environment and stores it? And this core is the centre of your power/ Well… that is an oversimplification.

"Instead, there are three cores, called the Tricorda. Each of these cores has a particular role in performing magic, and they work together to let you create different types of magic Unfortunately in your case, one of these cores - specifically the one that allows you to use wanded magic has been… overloaded and burst. Like a balloon that has been overfilled"

Harry nodded as though he understood, and the nurse continued "Because of this, it's not filling with magic. Instead it's just draining out as quickly as your body can replenish it, meaning there's none available for you to cast spells with"

"How… how do you know?" he finally asked "Are you sure?"

"Yes Mr Potter. Those spells I cast showed a very specific pattern of results. The first spell I cast looks at your power levels, which are lower than average. That could be because your magical cores haven't developed properly yet – that is very common and usually fixes itself within the first term of Hogwarts. We have an abundance of magic in the air around here, and that's very good at fast-tracking magical growth. However, for that to be the case we should see your other two cores also being significantly smaller, and the spell I cast showed that they weren't. They're a perfectly healthy size"

"So that means I could only have this… pater-thing?" Harry asked

"Well – there is a second explanation for these results. It is possible that you have used all of your magical reserves for your Patercore, but even at your age, that would take an impressive amount of magic and willpower. Not to mention, my second spell suggested you have been this way for at the least the past couple of months. Long term, Focused casting like that is just not possible in someone your age. Plus, even if you were currently casting a spell, the order of magic means that I should see the flow through the Animacore and Dextracore as well, which I don't.

Does that make sense, Mr Potter?"

That didn't make any sense whatsoever, but Harry trusted Tom's research ability far more than he trusted his voice at that moment in time.

"It's ok dear – if you think of any questions then you can come to me or Madam Pomphrey at any time and we'll help you as much as we can" Professor Sprout said, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. Harry looked at his knees.

"So, I'll never be able to do magic?" he asked hesitantly, voice thick with disappointment

"Heavens no, child" Professor Dumbledore piped in, "I'm sure the good Matron was about to discuss how we can treat this"

"We're going to give you a potion, Harry" Madam Pomphrey said. Her voice was gentle, and Harry bristled. She sounded like Dr Haywood, when she told him that Tom wasn't real and that they were going to try some new pills this month.

"What your core needs is some time to recover. I'm going to give you a potion that… stops you from sequestering magic, and another to strengthen the walls of your cores. That will give you the chance to start repairing your magic properly"

" _Don't take them Harry"_ Tom said warningly, standing between Harry and the nurse with a fierce scowl on his face

"We'll have to order them in from St Mungo's, but they'll be here soon. I'll have them sent to the Hufflepuff table for you"

The rest of the meeting went in a blur of nods, and explanations of side effects and prognosis. Harry didn't think he took in a word of what was being said. All that kept running through his head was 'I can't do magic'

Professor Sprout walked with him to the corridor "Mr Potter – I know we haven't known each other long, and there is little reason for you to trust me yet but you can talk to me. About anything. I promise that I will believe you, no matter what it is"

"I know Professor" Harry said, dully "I'm not very hungry. I think I'll go straight back to the common room if that's ok?"

"Of course it is, my dear. Remember to come to me if you have any questions"

Harry nodded, and walked down the long, stone walkway in a daze, with Tom oddly silent beside him. He hadn't been walking long when a foul stench reached his nostrils, a mixture of old socks and the kind of public toilet no one seemed to clean. It was followed by the sound of low grunting and the shuffling footfalls of gigantic feet.

The stench was foul enough to knock Harry out of his stupor, in time to duck behind the corner as a huge creature shuffled into a patch of moonlight. It was twelve feet tall, its skin a dull, granite grey, its great lumpy body like a boulder with its small head perched on top like a coconut. It had short legs thick as tree trunks with flat, horny feet. It was holding a huge wooden club, which dragged along the floor because its arms were so long.

It stopped next to a doorway and peered inside. It waggled its long ears, making up its tiny mind, then slouched slowly into the room.

"What's a troll doing in a corridor?" Harry gasped, remembering the creatures from his textbook. Tom shrugged, looking almost bored at the new development, as lost in his thoughts as he was.

" _If you want to play hero_ " he said " _The key is in the door. You could lock it in and alert a teacher_ "

Harry couldn't see a flaw in that plan, so he edged towards the open door, mouth dry and praying desperately that the troll wasn't about to come out of it. Harry managed to drab the key, slam the door and lock it.

"Yes!" he cheered, triumphantly, but his victory was short-lived when he heard a scream from inside what now appeared to be the girl's toilets.

" _Don't you even think about it_ " Tom said, putting himself bodily between Harry and the door " _You don't even have magic_ ".

"That's Hermione – I'm not going to let her get killed!" Harry cried, pushing his imaginary friend out of the way and unlocking the door and pulling it open.

Hermione Granger was shrinking against the wall opposite, looking as if she was about to faint. The troll was advancing on her, knocking the sinks off the walls as it went. Harry reached down for a piece of tap, and threw it against the wall desperately.

The troll stopped a few feet from Hermione. It lumbered around, blinking stupidly to see what had made the noise. Its mean little eyes saw Harry. It hesitated, then made for him instead, lifting its club as it went. Harry paled as the club went for him, and rolled to the side to avoid it. The troll stopped, staring at the place Harry had been and made a confused noise. By the time it had relocated the boy, he was darting over to Hermione, grabbing her by the arm to pull her up.

"Come on, run, run!" he yelled, trying to pull her towards the door but she was still flat against the wall, her mouth open with terror.

The shouting and echoes seemed to affect troll though, driving it berserk. It roared again and started towards them, waving its club in wide, arching swings as it did so. The two children flung themselves in opposing directions as the wood came down on them, and the troll stopped again in confusion. It grunted once, and choosing a direction, turned back to kill Hermione.

Then Harry did something that was both very brave and very stupid: he took a great running jump and managed to fasten his arms around the troll's neck from behind. The troll couldn't feel Harry hanging there, but even a troll would notice if you stick a long bit of wood up its nose, and Harry's wand had still been in his hand when he'd jumped. It had gone straight up one of the troll's nostrils.

Howling with pain, the troll twisted and flailed its club, with Harry clinging on for dear life. Any second, the troll was going to rip him off, or catch him with a terrible blow with the club.

" _Harry. Catch_ " Tom said, voice as calm as if they were just taking a walk around the lake.

The piece of shrapnel that Tom threw at him was sharp, and glinted dangerously as it levitated across the distance more slowly and accurately than should be possible. It hovered around Harry's hand for a second too long, whilst the boy rearranged his grip to grasp it and without any further prompting from Tom, he stabbed it into the troll's throat. It screamed with pain as Harry ripped it across as though cutting through butter. Blood spurted from the wound, painting the walls and Hermione in bright red. The beast no longer cared about Harry, who dropped carefully from its back to make his way to Hermione. Its hands pressed against its neck whilst it made gurgled, terrified noises. It took several minutes for it to fall unconscious, and several more for it to die and the two children watched it in morbid fascination the whole while.

Silence fell over the bathroom.

It was Hermione who spoke first "Are you ok?"

Harry was startled by the question, until he realised he was shaking, his impromptu weapon held in a white knuckled grip. He dropped it, with the clatter that echoed around the bathroom.

"I'm fine" he muttered, slumping against the wall. He waited for the sardonic response from his best friend, but none came.

"You just killed something – you're not fine" Hermione said, her voice verging on hysterical. She paused "I mean… thank you. Thank you for saving my life"

Harry smiled, or as close as he could do in his state. His brain felt funny, like all of his thoughts were travelling through treacle. His eyes darted around the room for his friend 'Where's Tom?' he thought, or at least he thought he did.

"Who's Tom?" Hermione asked, but Harry didn't hear her as he frantically looked around the bathroom for evidence of the boy, breaths coming hard and fast. He was alone… Tom had gone… what if he never came back?

There was a sudden slamming and loud footsteps that made Hermione look up. They hadn't realised what racket they had been making but of course, someone downstairs must have heard the crashes and the troll's roars. A moment later, Professor McGonagall had come bursting into the room, closely followed by Snape, with Quirrell bringing up the rear. Quirrell took one look at the troll, and at the blood that covered the whole floor like a red, glassy lake and let out a faint whimper, sitting quickly down on a toilet.

Snape bent over the troll, whilst Professor McGonagall looked at the pair with a pale face, and cold, furious eyes

"What on earth were you thinking of?" said Professor McGonagall, her voice barely louder than a whisper "You're lucky you weren't killed. Why aren't you in your dormitory?"

"Please Professor McGonagall" Hermione said quickly "Harry's going into shock – he rescued me! He needs the hospital wing!"

There was a silence and the Professor seemed to take in the eleven year olds' pale, shivering state. The boy was muttering to himself under his breath, robes soaked with blood and eyes glassy. Hermione was barely in a better position. Her face softened

"Rightly so, Miss Granger" she said, "But don't you think that gets you out of any trouble. I want a full explanation from you both"

"Of course, Professor" Hermione said, looking at her friend. He flinched as the Professors tried to come over, muttering something about 'not being protected'. She glared at the grown ups, trying to be brave. She was a Gryffindor – that was what they were supposed to be like.

"Come on Harry" she murmured softly, putting a hand on his arm "You need to stand up now. We'll get you cleaned up and in bed. I think you used a lot of magic on that summoning charm"

She coaxed Harry to his feet like you would coax a wild animal, guiding him around the body of the troll and ignoring the Professors entirely. She wasn't the sort of girl who ignored her teachers but Harry had been in trouble, and they had been more focused on punishing them!

"It's Ok" she kept muttering, though her own hands were shaking and her mind kept replaying images of the attack "We'll find Tom in the morning, ok? We'll find him and everything will be alright"

She never felt the spell that hit her in the back, nor the one that stopped her and Harry from hitting the ground. And she certainly didn't hear a whispering, sinister voice say "Interesting"

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